#maybe five uses out of them. the same for another little pair of denim shorts. then i didnt go out at all last year and got fat and oh no | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kcarreras · 3 years

Text

I Wanna Be Yours

Fandom: Outer Banks Pairing: JJ Maybank & Kiara Carrera Summary: It’s been a week since the Pogues arrived back in Kildare, after almost a month stranded on the island. Separated from her friends and under house arrest from her parents, JJ and Kie are finally reunited and forced to confront the consequences their time on the island has had on their relationship... Notes: This one is for @soldatstylesmaybank for hyping me up in her tags - I hope you like it! ❤️

The Pogues had been back in Kildare County for a week now.

Seven whole days since she’d last seen her friends - last seen him - on the dock after their ferry arrived back from the mainland.

Her parents had been waiting, and were on top of her almost instantly - hugging and smothering her as they led her to the back of her mom’s SUV without so much as a chance to say goodbye.

Since then, her parents had been monitoring her every move to the point she felt like she was under house arrest, and maybe she was.

She’d wake up in the mornings to her mom pulling open her curtains, sunlight flooding the room and rousing her from her sleep, pretending she was there to collect laundry... at 6am.

Her dad would check in with her at night before going to bed, pretending he was only stopping in to say goodnight, but really his motive was the same as her mom’s - he wanted to make sure she was still there.

Her homework was being dropped off at the house by her school guidance counsellor at the request of her parents, after they claimed she needed time to ‘adjust’ to being back. Really, they just didn’t want her having the opportunity to sneak off somewhere - or with someone - she shouldn’t be.

After five days of constant supervision and being on her best behaviour, she convinced them that she should at least be allowed to leave the house for work. Her dad finally agreed that she could cover some shifts at the Wreck, as long as he was there.

It wasn’t ideal, but she’d take what she could get at this point.

The next day was a quiet Sunday in late October, and with little tourists left in the area and the locals at home out of the way of the wind and rain that was rolling in from the coast, the Wreck was empty.

It was a little after 7pm when her dad made the decision to close early and send the other staff home. Once the last of the servers had left, he flipped the “OPEN” sign that hung in the door to “CLOSED”, and they began to clear up.

About 20 minutes later his cell rang, and it was Anna. Her tyre had blown out and she was stranded at the side of the road, a few miles out of town. Due to the weather, the roadside recovery company hadn’t been able to give her an estimated arrival time beyond “a few hours”, and so Mike said he’d go and pick her up.

At first he wanted Kiara to come with him, but she made a strong case for the fact that there was no use in both of them sitting in the car doing nothing for the whole journey there and back, when she could be here cleaning and boarding up the restaurant in case the weather worsened. Her father’s resolve was a lot weaker than her mother’s, who would have dragged her along anyway, and so he agreed.

He gave her the same lecture he always did when she worked a closing shift - make sure all the stoves are off, double-check the storm shutters are latched properly and don’t forget to turn all the lights off. She even jangled her keys in front of him, promising to remember to lock the door on her way out, and that she’d head straight home when she was done.

Her dad eventually left, and she locked the door behind him before heading into the cleaning closet to grab the mop and bucket.

Her dad had only been gone a few minutes when she heard the rap of knuckles against the door. Assuming he’d forgotten his keys or wallet, she huffed, dropping the mop back into the bucket - now full of hot water and citrus-scented floor cleaner - and headed to the door.

“I swear, Dad, you’d forget your own head if it wasn’t-“ she began, but as she rounded the corner, the air was knocked out of her lungs.

It was JJ.

He was standing in front of the glass door, hands buried deep in his pockets, shoulders shrugged up to his ears and his hood pulled over his head as the rain hammered down on top of him, dripping from the ends of his blonde hair that stuck out from under his hood and clung to his forehead.

“Shit,” Kie breathed out under her breath, subconsciously running her hands across her apron, smoothing it out across her thighs.

When she didn’t move immediately, JJ raised an eyebrow at her.

“Is there a secret password or some shit I don’t know about?”

His voice was muffled through the door, but she could still hear the humour in it.

When she still didn’t move, he spoke again, a little more serious this time.

“Seriously, Kie? Let me in, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the exaggeration, but he was only wearing a pair of long, dark boardshorts that hung to his knees and a washed-out, grey t-shirt with a flimsy navy jacket lying open over top - all of which was clinging to him like a second skin from the rain.

Normally she’d give him stick for being so inappropriately dressed for the weather, but she herself was wearing a pair of light-wash denim shorts and a lemon-coloured vest top with thin spaghetti straps, so she really had no room to judge.

She took another breath, bracing herself as she made her way across the wooden floor, boards creaking beneath her sneakers with every step. She knew the noise would be echoing around the empty restaurant, loud and obnoxious, but she couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

She turned the key that was still in the lock and the door all but blew open into her as JJ tumbled in out of the elements.

“Finally, what took so long?” He asked, pulling his hood down and shaking his head like a wet dog, rain spraying from his dishevelled blonde head.

“Wow, JJ. Really?” Kie complained, stepping back out of his vicinity and wiping splashes off the bare skin of her arms.

When he finally lifted his head to look at her, he smiled, and something inside of her chest cracked open, and she felt some of her previous apprehension leave her body.

“Long time, no see,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Yeah. I almost forgot what you looked like,” she replied back in a similar tone, throwing the clean rag she was holding at him with a grin, before turning away from him.

“Please,” he scoffed jokingly, dragging the cloth across his face as he dried himself off.

“As if you could ever forget this face.”

Yeah, as if, Kiara thought to herself, all too seriously. Outwardly, though, she responded by giving him the middle finger over her shoulder as she continued to make her way back to her cleaning supplies.

“I know you struggle with the cursive,” she called to him, disappearing from view into the cleaning closet, “but you can read the sign that says we’re closed, right?”

“Yeah, I managed that one, thanks. I appreciate the concern, though,” he replied, pulling a stool out from the counter and perching himself upon it as she rummaged around in the closet.

“Luckily for me, I’m not here for the shrimp and grits. Unless…” he chanced his luck, but she stuck her head out of the closet for a second to scowl at him as she replied.

“Not a chance. Everything’s already been cleaned, I’m not firing it all up again to make you free food.”

“Worth a try,�� he said with a shrug.

“So if it’s not the free food you’re here for, what is it?” Kiara asked him, her voice sounding distant from inside the closet.

“You,” he said, and she froze, her arm extended above her head as she reached up for another clean cloth and some spray.

After a moment she emerged from the closet empty handed, standing a few feet from him.

“Jay, we talked about this-” she began delicately, but he interrupted.

“No, actually, Kie, you talked. I just had to sit there and listen.”

Kie’s mind jolted her back to the last conversation they had before the ferry docked on the day they came home.

***

They were sitting together on a bench out on the deck, her head resting on his shoulder and their hands clasped together as they stared out to the approaching shore, the announcement signalling their arrival playing out overhead.

“So what happens now?” JJ had asked, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“What do you mean?” Kie had questioned back, lifting her head to look at him.

“Between you and me. I mean, these last few weeks... I don’t know. I guess I just thought things might be different.”

Kie thought back to the last three weeks - the lingering stares, the subtle but deliberate touches, their desire to be around each other all the time becoming more and more obvious as the days had gone by.

She didn’t remember exactly when things changed between them, but she did remember that last night they spent on the beach once everyone else was asleep.

She remembered the sound of his hushed laugh as it faded from his lips, his eyes shifting from piercing and glittering, to dark and wanting, as they fell from hers down to her lips, and back again.

She remembered the heavy breath he took when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, nervous but excited for what might happen next.

She remembered her breath catching in her throat when he turned at the waist to face her, his hand reaching up to brush a stray curl back from her eyes, before trailing it down her jaw to rest on the side of her neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck as he leaned in.

Her eyes had fluttered closed, and she’d stopped breathing altogether when she felt his breath against her lips.

One of her hands had tugged on his t-shirt, the other pulling down on the back of his neck as she tried to close the minimal space left between them...

But then Pope had stumbled out from the shelter just a few meters along beach, cursing as he tripped over a piece of rogue driftwood in the dark, and they had sprung apart as though they were suddenly allergic to each other.

JJ had cleared his throat as Kiara combed her fingers through her hair, and they jumped to their feet as Pope asked them what they were still doing up.

They made their usual excuse about not being able to sleep, and Pope shrugged, still half asleep as he wandered off behind the tree line, informing them he was going to take a piss.

With the moment gone, they retreated in silence back under the cover of the shelter, unaware that the next time they’d be alone to discuss it, they would be getting ready to dock back in Kildare.

“JJ, I - I don’t really know what to say.”

“Well that’s easy, Kie. You just say how you feel.”

With the dock coming in to view, the sight of her mom and dad standing at the edge, she began to feel overwhelmed, as though she couldn’t distinguish one thought from another.

She knew things had changed between them, and she knew that her parents were going to be unsufferable - that she was probably going to get shipped straight back off the island to boarding school the first chance they got.

She panicked, at what that would mean for her and JJ, and she didn’t have enough time in the next 30 seconds to think it through.

“Kie, what’s wrong?” JJ asked as she abruptly pulled away from him and got to her feet.

“Nothing, I’m fine, it’s just...” she trailed off, and the look on his face as he stared up at her broke her heart in two.

“I think it’s best that we just keep things how they are between us.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and if she thought the look he had before was heartbreaking, it was nothing compared to this.

“Okay, but-” he began as his brow furrowed and his cheeks flushed, but she cut him off.

“Look, Jay, we’ve been friends for a long time, right? And these last few months have been crazy... and, y’know, being stranded on an island for three weeks? That shit can kinda fuck with your head. And so I just don’t know if we should let any of that change what we are to each other.”

She was rambling, and he was trying desperately to keep up, but the next minute the ferry shuddered as it made contact with the dock.

“Um, my parents are here. I should go,” Kie said, turning on her heels and practically running for the ramp.

“Kie! Wait a second,” he called, chasing after her, but other passengers on the ferry had begun to make their way in the same direction and a crowd formed between them. By the time JJ had pushed his way through, Kie was already disembarked and down on the dock.

“Kie!” he called after her, hands gripping the railing of the boat as she turned back to look at him. The rest of his friends, now also down on the dock, shouted for him to hurry his ass up, unaware of everything that had just unfolded.

Kie held his eyes for a second, before mouthing a silent, “I’m sorry,” and letting her parents lead her to the car.

***

He stood from the stool, and it screeched against the wooden floor as it slid back towards the counter, putting her nerves even more on edge.

“Look, I know your parents don’t want you to see me, or any of us for that matter. But, Kie, you can’t just ghost us, alright? No one’s heard from you since we got back.”

“That’s not true. You have.” Kiara argued weakly.

JJ scoffed, throwing his hands up.

“A text saying ‘Sorry, gotta dip for a bit,’ doesn’t count, Kie, and you know it.”

“That’s not all it said,” she replied, her voice even smaller now, her eyes dropping from his.

“No, you’re right,” he admitted with a humourless laugh, and it was the most annoyed she had ever heard JJ sound, at least towards her.

“It also said ‘I miss you’. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?” he asked, his blue eyes darkening and his cheeks flushing.

“Exactly what it said! I miss you, JJ. So much. I don’t wanna be apart from you. From any of you, but-” Kiara responded, her voice a little stronger now, almost a shout as her heart hammered in her chest.

“I don’t care about anyone else, Kiara,” he replied, and it was somewhere between a shout and a laugh. Kie flinched at the use of her full name, something he didn’t do very often and it made her uneasy.

It made her feel like they were fighting, which they were.

It made her feel like he was mad at her, which he had every right to be.

It made her feel as though they weren’t JJ and Kie anymore.

Like they weren’t even friends.

And that made her want to cry. Which was ironic, because the whole reason they were in this situation in the first place was because during the three weeks they had spent stranded together - although probably some time before then, if she was being honest with herself - she realised that she didn’t want to be friends with JJ Maybank.

She wanted more.

“Jay,” she tried again, more softly, stepping toward him, but he pulled back.

“I can’t do this,” he said, and it was so quiet that she wasn’t sure he had actually said it.

“What do you mean? Can’t do what?” Kie pleaded, stepping forward again, taking hold of one of his hands in hers.

She tried to meet his gaze, but his blue eyes were darting around the room, desperately trying to look anywhere but at her.

“Jay, look at me, please,” she whispered, and a few seconds later he did.

“I can’t have this conversation with you if you’re not gonna be honest.”

“I’m trying, JJ. I am. But it’s complicated, okay? My parents said-”

“I don’t give a shit about what they have to say, Kie. This isn’t about them, or anyone else. How we feel about each other, that’s up to us. No one else is allowed to tell us shit about it.”

She dropped her eyes, which were clouded with tears that had yet to fall, and her gaze landed on their hands that were still intertwined.

As JJ slipped his hands from hers, her eyes darted up to his, scared he was pulling away from her. But then she felt his cool palms on her hot, flushed cheeks and her eyes fluttered shut for a second before looking back up at him.

“If you tell me right now that you wanna forget everything that’s happened over the last month…”

JJ took a deep breath, as if he was bracing himself for impact, before continuing.

“If you tell me that you wanna pretend that it never happened,” his voice trailed off, and her hands came up to grasp at his wrists as he continued to cradle her face.

“I’ll do that for you. If that’s what you want. But please don’t ask me to do it for anyone else.”

His head fell forward, eyes closed as his forehead came to rest against hers. Kie squeezed her eyes shut, and the tears finally fell.

JJ felt them trickle against his palms that were still pressed to her cheeks, and he opened his eyes, brushing them away with the gentle pads of his thumbs.

“Tell me what you want, Kie,”

It was all but a whisper against her lips, which were inches from his as their foreheads remained pressed together, noses brushing.

Kiara’s eyes opened and met his, holding his gaze for a second before speaking.

“I wanna be with you,” she said, and before JJ could register what was happening, she pushed herself up onto her toes until her lips met his.

He was still against her for a second until the surprise wore off, and then his mouth was moving against hers.

Her hands slid from their position around his wrists down his forearms, pulling gently until he dropped one hand to her waist and pulled her body flush to his.

Her mouth fell open when the front of his body collided against hers, and JJ’s tongue which had been running along her bottom lip made its way into her mouth with a groan. One of Kiara’s hands knotted itself in the damp material of his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer, the other snaking its way through his hair and tugging gently.

JJ grinned against her mouth, and when she felt it, she pulled back slightly to do the same. JJ took advantage of the brief pause to not only catch his breath, but to reach round behind her and untie the apron that was still around her waist. As it came undone in his hand, he tossed it on the floor behind him. His lips came back to meet hers as his hands slid down her body appreciatively, coming to a stop just under her ass. His warm fingers and the cool metal of his rings pressed into the exposed skin beneath her shorts as he lifted her until her legs were wrapped around his waist.

He walked them forward a few steps, and Kie whined at the momentary loss of contact between their mouths as he set her down on the counter.

She tugged again at his t-shirt to bring him closer, and he gladly obliged, settling himself between her legs. He hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled until they were flush against each other again, and her thighs tightened their grip around him in response.

“Fuck, Kie,” JJ breathed against her neck as his mouth dropped from hers into the crook of her neck, desperate for air.

The words and the sensation of his breath against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and he felt her arch her back in response as her chest pressed against his. A moment later, her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder, breathless.

JJ’s hands began to wander from where they had been running up and down the smooth, bare expanse of her thighs up to her waist, fingers tracing under the hem of her top that clung sinfully to her curves.

When she felt him hesitate, she lifted her head from where it was resting on his shoulder, her lips brushing his skin as she dragged them upwards across his jaw until they hovered over his again. She nodded, eyes burning into his before they fluttered closed again and her lips collided with his.

His hands pushed under her top, roaming the expanse of bare skin on her back. Kiara’s hands moved to push his jacket off his shoulders, pulling it down his arms until she heard it hit the floor with a soft thud.

The rain continued to hammer against the roof above them, and pelt off the glass windows surrounding them as the last of the sun disappeared below the horizon, casting pink and orange and purple shadows across them and the empty restaurant.

Kiara could feel the strong planes of his chest and stomach beneath the damp t-shirt that clung to him, and she wanted nothing more than to peel it from his skin and have it join his jacket on the floor.

Her hips rocked forward instinctively at the thought of it, and JJ groaned against her mouth as his fingers dug into the soft skin of her hips.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a few seconds later a snap of lightning lit up the sky and they flinched, pulling apart slightly.

They were as close as they’d ever been, noses brushing, eyelashes tickling the others cheeks, lips brushing but not quite touching as they caught their breath.

“JJ,” Kie breathed, shifting so her mouth was now against the shell of his ear, and his skin prickled as he hummed in response.

“I really don’t want this to end, but…” she trailed off with a sigh as her arms came up to drape across his strong shoulders, pulling him close as he straightened up.

“I know,” he whispered against the column of her throat, where her pulse was still hammering, before wrapping his arms around her waist in response.

They stayed like that for a minute or two, just holding each other close and taking in the moment - God knows when they’d be able to have another.

“I’m sorry,” Kie whispered into the silence, and she felt him smile against her neck before he spoke.

“Don’t be. That was further than I ever thought I’d get with you.”

“That’s not what I meant, dumbass,” she laughed against his ear before pulling back to slap him playfully on the shoulder. She let her arms slide down from where they had been wrapped around him until her palms rested flat on his chest.

JJ relaxed his hold on her too, hands coming to rest lazily against her waist as his thumbs traced circles into the bare skin between the waistband of her shorts and the hem of her top.

“I’m sorry that everything is so complicated.” She clarified, her soft, brown eyes gazing into his.

“Don’t worry about it, alright? We’ll figure it out,” he comforted with a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“So,” he said a few seconds later, followed by a cough to break the tension, “We’ve got some floors to mop, huh?”

Kiara tilted her head, a smile breaking out across her face and lighting up her features at the sight of him grinning back at her.

JJ lifted her down from the counter, setting her on her feet before turning them around so he was nearest the counter and she was facing away from him.

“Better get to it, Cinderella,” he said, smacking her gently on the ass over her shorts, and she turned to shoot him a look of mock offense over her shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna help?” she asked, nodding her head towards the cleaning closet that was still lying open.

“Sure. In a minute though,” he replied, still leaning back against the counter.

“What’s wrong with right now? I’m working under a time crunch now, thanks to you.” Kiara asked, turning to face him again with a drop of her hip as she crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised at him.

“If you must know, thanks to you,” he began, repeating her own words back to her with emphasis, “I need a minute to… regroup, if you will, before I can move from this position.”

When Kiara continued to stare at him blankly, he dropped his gaze from hers down to the front of his shorts and back again, and Kiara threw a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Right. Got it.” she replied, holding her hands up apologetically but still looking wildly amused. “Sorry about that.”

“Sure you are,” he drawled with a laugh as she moved over to where her apron and JJ’s jacket had landed on the floor, bending over to pick them.

“Not helping, Kie,” JJ groaned from over by the counter and she stood back up, turning to toss the item at him.

“My bad,” she said with a grin, re-tying her apron around her waist and picking up the mop.

A while later, when they had finished mopping the floors and had moved on to polishing glasses whilst Otis Redding played in the background on an old record player in the back office, Kie’s phone buzzed with a text from her mom letting her know they were on their way back.

***

Kiara cried as she said goodbye to JJ on the boardwalk outside of the restaurant, clinging to him as though she might never see him again because, with the way her parents had been acting, it was a real possibility.

JJ whispered comforting promises against her ear and pressed soft kisses into the now all too-familiar crook of her neck. He wiped away her tears and told her he’d see her soon, one way or another, before climbing onto his bike.

She looked on as he reached the end of the road, where he would turn left to go South and she would turn right to go North, and she had never realised it was possible to feel so close to someone and yet so far apart at the same time.

#jade writes jiara #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jj x kiara #jj x kie #jj and kiara #jj and kie #jiara #jiara fanfic

135 notes · View notes

zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

incomparable

pairing | logan x mc

word count | 7.4k

warnings | there’s a lot of angst in this one, and it’s definitely an emotional hurt/comfort fic! if you don’t like the idea of logan trying to move on, then this one isn’t for you!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @dionneserrano, @blainehayes, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | a while ago, my sweet friend and fellow mod @/pixeljazzy suggested a fic plot that’s angsty and absolutely demonic, aka logan tries to move on, so i decided to write it! i’d been working on this before the mods decided to create the time capsule challenge, so i’m very content that this fits into the theme well !!! and to clarify, this is an au where my mc raquel writes down her experience with the mpc and ends up publishing it and unintentionally becomes a best selling author! also yes rodaw brought me out of my choices writing break and i’m not mad at it at all

•─────────────────•

She wasn’t Raquel.

That much was obvious – she was taller. Her shoulders were broader. Her hair was short, bluntly cut at her collarbones, and dark brown.

She was tattoo free. The skin of her arm was bare – a clean slate. Untouched.

She seemed more innocent, too. Not in the way that Raquel was when they first met.

This woman was grown with a full time job and a comfy apartment in the heart of the city, but… there was something missing.

She probably had no clue that there was a seedy underbelly to her home. Didn’t have the misfortune of crossing paths with someone like him when he was at his worst.

She was privileged enough to go about her life while a whole microcosm of crime happened right under her nose. And she didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know.

Logan wasn’t exactly jazzed to shatter another woman’s innocence the way he did with Raquel.

This girl seemed… safe. Level headed, secure, and millions of miles away from the life he’d abandoned.

It kind of happened by accident. Meeting her, that is.

It wasn’t a carefully crafted “accident” like with Raquel. She actually just… caught his eye.

He’d gotten an honest job as a mechanic on the outskirts of L.A., working mostly with the struggling working class that had long been banished to the dingiest corners, despite being the most important cogs in the city’s machine.

The autoshop was family owned, and had been for generations – the owner, Nicandro, had accepted Logan as his own, and Logan had practically become a part of the Alvarez family.

He hadn’t anticipated finding his own home in the same city that’d chewed him up and spat him out time and time again.

A couple months into working there, he was finally settling into his routine. Nine-to-five job on weekdays, community college classes on weekends, and the occasional Saturday mass when he was invited by the Alvarezes.

He was functioning. He had a routine. And then this girl came in and disrupted it all.

The Honda Civic girl.

When the average looking car pulled up outside, he didn’t give it a second glance.

He went back to work, arms deep in the engine, grimy and stained from repairing Miss Anita’s ancient artifact she insisted on saving even though it was less than a thousand miles away from crumbling cartoon-style till only the wheels were left.

(But she was family to the Alvarezes, so Nicandro insisted on repairing the car for free nearly every week when she needed something new tweaked.)

He heard her voice from across the room and still didn’t look up from his hands.

“Hi, this is embarrassing, but my engine light thingy came on and I have no clue what it means,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m on my way out of town for a couple of days, so I thought I’d stop and get it checked out before you closed for the night.”

“Aye, Lo, can you help her out real quick? We’ve gotta truck coming in with parts soon and I gotta keep watch,” Nicandro called across the garage, shooting Logan a toothy grin as soon as he looked up.

“Sure,” Logan smiled politely, scrubbing his forearm over his brow, the sweat managing to hold a couple strands of his hair captive against his skin.

He was assuming it’d be a typical oil change, but the second she came into view, the ghost of the last time he left L.A. gripped his heart and squeezed until adrenaline shot through every vein in his body.

Her t-shirt, tucked neatly into her denim shorts, read “Langston”.

It wasn’t the sweatshirt, but it was the same design, same color.

He knew staying in L.A. was a gamble, but he was willing to risk it. Staying away from Raquel was priority for her safety, but… he couldn’t bury the inkling of hope that pushed its way to the surface when he walked into a coffee shop or a bookstore – places he knew she’d love.

Once he saw the shirt and her big brown eyes, he was done for.

She wasn’t Raquel, but something about her lived in this stranger.

Before he could stop himself, he was comparing her to his first love – a disaster waiting to happen.

Their first date was anything but – she insisted on bringing him a vanilla milkshake from his favorite burger place to his work.

“How’d you know I was working?” He asked earnestly, mirroring her soft smile.

“I didn’t. Nicandro told me vanilla milkshakes were your favorite and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise so…” she shrugged, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve, uh, brought milkshakes up here every day this weekend.”

He laughed – a real genuine surprised laugh – and took a sip from the styrofoam cup. “You didn’t let them go to waste, did you?”

“Nah, Nicandro’s been really happy with me.”

“Yum,” he hummed. “I’m happy with you, too.”

She grinned in delight, taking a sip from hers. “I’m glad my hard work paid off.”

She stayed there for his whole lunch break, and they chatted, casual conversation with no substance, and he actually enjoyed himself.

The last time he remembered having casual conversations about nothing with a girl his age, he was curled underneath the sheets with Raquel, tracing the outlines of her sleeve of tattoos. He could’ve listened to her talk for hours.

This girl… she was pretty tolerable – she listened to him (hung on every word, even) and cared about what he had to say, even though it was a laid back, low stakes conversation.

“My name’s Renée, you know. I realized I haven’t told you,” she smiled, resting her cheek on her hand. She was facing him, and they were seated on the same side of the old wooden table out back behind the garage.

“Renée,” he repeated, shaking the styrofoam cup to gather the last bit of milkshake at the bottom before tipping it back to lap it up. “I’m Logan.”

“Logan,” she nodded. “It suits you.”

“S’not my real name,” he shrugged.

He didn’t know why he was telling her that. If he told her too much, it’d end the same.

She tipped her own cup back, tapping the bottom to get little stray ice chunks out. “Fine by me. I still think it suits you.”

She was way too trustworthy of a man she didn’t know, but… wasn’t that what attracted him to Raquel in the first place?

Without a shred of judgement in her eyes, Raquel took everything Logan said as the truth, despite how many times he’d fucked up. Betrayed her.

Renée didn’t look at him like he was a criminal and… well… he wasn’t one anymore. He was still in the criminal mindset, though, since he’d been ostracized for so damn long.

The next couple weeks were uncomfortable – not because Renée made him uncomfortable in the slightest. If anything, she was doing the opposite, and that was the problem.

He’d had to reopen himself to caring about another woman, and to say it was a difficult task was an understatement. The gates were stubborn, rusted shut, so much so that he had to force them apart, ignoring the grating screech of metal and the inevitable pain that came with being vulnerable again.

They went on a few dinner dates. She brought him lunch at work. She invited him to her apartment. They went to a food truck festival together.

Renée disrupted his routine, and it was a breath of fresh air.

He’d gotten so comfortable with his quaint life and his work family that he hadn’t pushed himself to do much more than that.

But the first time she held his hand, he froze.

She casually grabbed his hand to lead him through a crowd and his body reacted like he’d been electrocuted. It wasn’t wrong, but it felt wrong.

“Are you good?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, wiping his clammy palm against his jeans before letting her grab his hand again.

It wasn’t wrong, but it was wrong.

He should’ve ended it that moment, but he didn’t. He’d convinced himself that if he could push through the initial weirdness of it all, he’d be happy. Eventually.

So he went through the motions with her, trying his hardest to push his comparisons of her to Raquel to the back of his mind, but every so often it’d bubble to the surface.

It’d manifest in the most random ways.

She liked Coke icees, not cherry.

Oh we watched that rom-com together, and she hated it because it was too corny.

She likes that TV show as background noise because she thinks it’s dumb, and I do, too.

It was unhealthy to think of Raquel that much – to compare Renée to her that much – but he couldn’t help it.

The last time he was happy, safe, loved, was with Raquel. He hadn’t chased that feeling for a long time (because he wasn’t sure he could find it again), but with Renée he was getting closer to what he used to have.

Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted that warmth – that comfort – again.

She wasn’t Raquel, but she’d have to do.

A month into their casual dating, Renée kissed him. Well, she tried.

She’d insisted on driving him to a boujee rooftop bar near her place and was thoroughly buzzed off a couple of cosmopolitans less than an hour into them being there.

The party was in full swing around them, the corny ass cover band on their fourth “tribute” to Billy Joel.

He was out of his element to say the least.

Just as he was about to lean over to tell her he needed to use the bathroom, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and smashed her mouth against his, planting sloppy, sugary, open mouthed kisses on his parted lips, frozen in shock.

“Logan,” she breathed, squeezing him tighter, not even registering how tense he was.

“Renée… hey, hey,” he said, gently but firmly pulling her away from him. “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

Her big brown eyes welled up with tears and his chest twinged with guilt, the distant memory of the first time he’d betrayed Raquel floating around the back of his brain.

“I’m sorry I – I don’t know what came over me –” she turned away from him, dabbing her eyes with the crook of her finger.

“It’s okay. No need to apologize,” he reassured her, rubbing his palm in small circles on her back. “We’re good.”

“I wanted our first kiss to be special and I royally screwed that up,” she sighed, swivelling back till she was facing him again.

“Can’t do worse than me.”

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh yeah?”

“I was a girl’s first kiss… five minutes after we’d outrun the cops.”

Her laugh was a surprised one, her bright smile replacing her disappointed expression almost immediately.

“That’s surprising. I never pegged you as a law breaking type,” she blinked, the alcohol clearly making her a bit more ballsy than she normally was.

It was his turn to laugh – he doubled over, nearly knocking over her half empty glass in the process.

“I used to be quite a troublemaker.”

Despite her not-so-subtle hints over the next few weeks, he couldn’t bring himself to kiss her.

She probably thought he was the prudiest of the prudes, the local catholic church’s golden boy, the working man’s poster child of abstinence till marriage.

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yet.

He was wearing himself down more and more each day – he was on the track to kiss her in… a couple months to a year. Probably.

Two months in, she invited him to a swanky event her job was hosting.

She was one of many accountants working in the financial department for a large publishing company. She had a really cool gig, and she knew it. She never bragged, but she was proud of her accomplishments.

So why was she dating a mechanic who was making a third of her income? He had no idea.

Either way, he tried to enjoy himself. The car that picked them up was luxurious, and that and the food and booze reflected just how much money their company had made that year.

The venue was huge and packed to the brim with hundreds of people, the standing tables a couple feet apart all throughout the ballroom.

“Damn, they weren’t playing around with this, huh?” He mused, taking a sip from his mug, filled to the brim with locally brewed beer.

“Yep, they’re serious about giving a warm welcome to new authors,” Renée said over the rim of her drink, gesturing vaguely to the room around them.

“Yeah, so is that what they’re doing?”

“Mhmm. Every year we hold a big party to celebrate our deals for that year. It’s really just to pat ourselves on the back and give our new authors a sense of comfort here, you know?”

“Can I get a booklist or something? I might wanna check out some of these books afterwards. I feel guilty as hell eating duck, drinking their expensive ass alcohol, and rolling back home without, ya know, doing anything,” he shrugged, the fabric of his hand me down suit straining with effort at the motion.

“One of the authors insisted on not being included in any of the party promos so… she kinda ruined it for everybody. But she’s our number one best seller for this year, so…” she rolled her eyes, tipping back the last of her cosmo.

“And don’t worry about it. We budgeted for this and we’re good,” Renée nodded, giving Logan’s hand a squeeze over the table.

“So what’s the itinerary for the night?” Logan asked, rolling his mug around by its base, the beer swirling around the edges, just barely kissing the rim, but not quite overflowing.

It was stupid to relate to a fucking mug of beer, but he did.

Anytime he pushed himself to his limit with Renée, he retreated, never breaking past that threshold, that barrier he set in place for himself long before he’d ever met her.

“The President is gonna give some speech – he’s that guy right there –” she said, scooting around the table till her arm was pressed against the sleeve of his jacket, “Then the Vice President – that woman – is gonna introduce the guests of honor, and they’ll give introductions. Then a brief presentation from my boss about how much money we raked in this year, then… yep. We can leave.”

“Sounds painless enough.”

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thanks for coming with me, Lo. I really appreciate it.”

Before he could register what was happening, she’d tipped his chin towards her, pressing a tender, gracious kiss on his lips.

She pulled back, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

He mirrored her smile, but inside he was screaming.

He felt nothing. The kiss elicited absolutely nothing from him.

She kissed him and it felt like he was kissing a friend. Completely platonic.

He’d sunk months into getting comfortable with her just for it to blow up in his face. The second he’d let his guard down so things could progress naturally, it backfired.

He’d taken Raquel for granted. Being with her was so effortless that he didn’t have to think about it, and he let that slip away without trying to get her back.

He thought he was doing the right thing by her, but it was hurting him more than he’d ever anticipated.

It wasn’t that he considered her another notch in the bedpost. It was the opposite – the bedpost didn’t exist anymore.

There was only her. No one else. No matter how many times he tried to remedy his broken heart, it’d just bring him right back to her: the only woman that ever had the privilege of making herself a home there.

“I, uh, need to go to the restroom. Excuse me,” he said, jabbing his thumbs toward the double doors, heading outside before she had a chance to respond.

He pushed his way out of the room, his heart in time with the slap of his shoes against the flooring.

As soon as he was out of the doors, he kept walking, striding past the laggards mingling in the hallway, past the bathrooms, past the security, till he felt the dirty L.A. air coat his lungs.

God, if he could only catch his breath maybe he could go back in there and salvage the night. Maybe even make himself look less like a skittish idiot.

Despite the fact that his brain was wired to unintentionally treat her like a friend, he didn’t want to hurt this girl.

He didn’t smoke often – just a taste of nicotine when he was drunk or the occasional cigarette when he was stressed.

There was a crumpled pack in his glove box that’d been there for months.

Why didn’t he just drive? He was fucking stranded. He couldn’t run. Couldn’t put distance between him and this situation that he’d willingly put himself in.

None of this was Renée’s fault. There wasn’t a single aspect of the situation that was her fault.

She was a girl who wanted to date a boy because of reciprocated interest.

He felt like the biggest loser in the world. Here she was, a beautiful girl with a lust for life and ambitions that dwarfed anything he’d ever imagined for himself.

And all she wanted to do was love him.

And he wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t let her.

His back slid against the brick wall until he was squatting, arms braced against his knees while he tried to gulp down fresh air as fast as the wind whipped at him.

He’d managed to find the one corner of the building that was completely unoccupied. For once, he was thankful for his gut instinct to lurk in the shadows.

He’d barely gotten a minute of solitude before the door closest to him flew open, a blur of tulle streaking across his peripheral.

The person’s breaths were labored, panicked, as they ran the opposite direction until they were at the edge of the pavement.

They bent down, just like he had, and clasped both hands over their mouth, letting out a small muffled scream.

When she was finished with that, she tilted her chin upwards, her skin illuminated by the light from the parking lot that spilled onto their side of the building.

If he thought breathing was difficult before, it got a whole lot worse when she noticed he was there.

She jumped, yelping like a wounded animal before stumbling back, catching herself with her hands. “Oh my god, I didn’t know anyone was here – I’m sorry –”

Pushing herself back up to stand, she brushed her palms off and shook the tulle skirt clean. “I’m just a little stressed. Sorry again for the outburst.”

That can’t be her. There’s no way, he thought, his mouth drying out when he got a clear view of her face.

“Raquel?” He asked, timidly, voice cracking on the first syllable.

She froze, searching the shadows, her hands white knuckling her skirt.

He didn’t speak, and neither did she. He couldn’t tell how long they’d been quiet when he pushed himself to his full height and took a step towards her.

“No, no, no, there’s no way,” she whispered, stumbling backwards, catching herself on the brick wall.

“It’s – uh, it’s me –” he said, laying his palm flat against his chest. “It’s Logan.”

His voice trembled, the effort of speaking (despite nearly being rendered speechless) was more than he could handle – it was as if he had to manually pick up his words like stones and drop them, and they were heavy, and he was weak.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She didn’t respond.

“I… uh, what are you doing here?” He asked finally, forcing the question past his lips.

If he didn’t say something he’d be drinking her in all night. It’d been a couple years, but she looked exactly the same.

Yeah, her hair was mid-length, the ombre traded for a black tone, and she’d gotten a few more tattoos that he could see, but she was the same old Raquel.

Same old Raquel, but professionally styled. He wasn’t self conscious of his hand-me-down suit until he noticed how polished she looked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she breathed, a strained tone followed by a struggled breath.

His heart dropped to his stomach. He’d completely forgotten about Renée.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened and closed it again, like a fucking fish out of water. There was no way to beat around it.

“I’m a plus one.”

Her perfectly gelled brows furrowed, and his gut clenched at the motion.

He was scared as hell, but damn did she look exactly like she did when she was hunched over a textbook, scrawling notes as quick as her brain summarized the words on the page.

“You didn’t… deliberately come here to see me?” She asked, searching his face for something (the truth, probably).

He ran a hand through his unruly hair, an inch or so shorter than she’d last seen it.

Why’d he have to run into her after he’d gotten a trim? He’d imagined this moment going so many different ways, and every scenario he’d pictured them looking like they did the moment they parted – if he had it his way, every detail would be exactly the same as the day he disappeared into the night, from his head down to his shoes.

“I, uh… No, I didn’t,” he stammered, taking another step her way, and that time she didn’t move back.

Shaking her head, she watched him, expression incredulous. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just because I didn’t come here for you doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you,” he said, reaching out towards her.

He thought she’d flinch away, but she stayed planted in place, her eyelids fluttering shut when he stroked the pad of his thumb against her jaw, revelling in how soft her skin was. Just like he remembered.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She turned her head just enough till she could kiss his palm, leaving a streak of lipgloss on his calloused skin. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is, baby,” he reassured her, before testing her even further by tugging her into a hug. “This isn’t a dream, but it sure feels like one.”

She ran her hands across his back, like she was refamiliarizing herself with his frame, before squeezing him tight, her arms shaking with effort. “You smell exactly the same.”

He laughed, burying his nose into her crown, pressing a kiss there. “You do, too. Like lavender’n’heaven.”

Raquel was in front of him, just as warm and pretty as she was the last time he’d seen her. She even felt the same in his arms, molding to his shape like no time had passed.

Adrenaline surged in his veins, and he took advantage of his momentary courage by tipping her chin upward to get a good look at her.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

Nothing else mattered to him anymore. His mechanic job, his car, his friendships, his home in L.A. –

He’d made a home in those dark brown eyes, and he was willing to drop everything and follow her to the ends of the earth if that meant he’d be back in the one home he’d ever known.

She blinked away a few tears, her bottom lip trembling, dimpling her chin.

He cupped her face between his palms, cradling her face as gently as he would with something breakable, soaking in the moment for as long as he could.

He could’ve held her like that and re-committed every inch of her face to memory, but she broke first, closing the gap by pressing her lips against his and Christ did she taste sweet.

Their mouths, arms, bodies, slotted together perfectly, not an inch of space between them.

Just as he parted his lips for her, she stiffened, retreating from him immediately.

“You taste like cherry. I hate cherry.”

Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “You hate cherry.”

He went rigid, the details from a few minutes before flooding back to him. Renée was wearing cherry gloss.

“Oh my god… you’re here with someone?” She asked, but she said it with such conviction, because she knew it was true, and she was begging for it not to be.

His mouth popped open and shut again. “I’m sorry –” “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve moved on and that’s okay. I’m happy for you.” Her voice was trembling with each word – the stones were heavy, and she was struggling, and he could tell.

“No, Raquel, it’s not like that. I promise –”

“Please don’t make me any promises, Lo. I don’t know if my heart can take it,” she said, palms up in surrender.

And she said his nickname. It sounded wrong coming from anyone but her.

“I’m serious, baby, I didn’t think I’d see you again, especially at a schmooze fest like this.”

She blinked, once, twice, processing what he’d said. “So… not only did you insult me by showing up with another woman, but you’re insulting this event that I’ve worked so hard to attend, and you’re insulting me.”

“Raquel… I never meant it that way, I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

He dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, groaning in frustration. “I stayed in L.A. in case I ever saw you again, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon, and I dreamed up lots of scenarios but none of them went like this. I fucked it up majorly and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t fucking know.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, her arms folded across her chest while she mulled over his words. “I never tried moving on.”

It hit him like a gut punch, grabbing his organs and twisting till pain shot throughout his body. “You didn’t?” Was all he could manage.

“No, I couldn’t. There’s no way I could when I’m still in love with you.”

She screwed her eyes shut, a sob leaving her before she could contain it.

“Raquel, please believe me –” Logan pleaded, stepping towards her. “If I woulda known you were gonna be here, trust me, I’d be dressed better and you’d be my date and I’d be showing you off to the world –”

Her watch buzzed, startling the both of them. “I… have to go. We can talk after, if you want.”

“Yes, please. That’s all I want,” he laced his fingers with hers, gently tugging her hand towards his lips to press a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I’ll find you after. I promise.”

Giving him one last once over, drinking him in, like she was second guessing if he was real, she stepped back through the doors.

He took a few deep breaths to compose himself before heading in – explaining his outburst to Renée hadn’t crossed his mind till he walked back inside.

He made his way back to the table, running over how he was going to apologize, but nothing stuck. He couldn’t think of anything but Raquel.

Renée was sipping on her second drink of the night, and his beer looked like it’d been dipped into as well.

“Are you okay?” She asked immediately. “I’m sorry about kissing you like that I just – I just thought you were comfortable enough. I screwed up again, Lo, and I’m so sorry.”

“Renée…” He couldn’t get over how unnatural “Lo” sounded coming from her. “The way I’ve been acting has nothing to do with you, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Kinda sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” she laughed once, rolling her eyes. They widened as soon as it dawned on her. “Wait… are you?”

“Can we talk outside? I really want you to hear me out –” “Logan, if you’re gonna dump me, at least respect me enough to not do it in the parking lot,” she sighed, chugging the rest of her drink.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, sliding his half empty mug of beer her way. “I do respect you, though. A lot. You’re an amazing person.”

Sighing, she tipped back the beer, gulping until he could see her eyes through the transparent bottom of the glass. “I’ve definitely heard this spiel before.”

“I’m gonna tell you this story, and you’re probably not gonna believe it, but it’s true, and it was my life – it is my life,” he started, leaning against the table so she could hear his low tone.

“Years ago, I met the woman of my dreams, and she was innocent and way too fucking good for me. I was breaking the law daily by doing jobs with crews of criminals like me, living off the grid, making money in ways I’m not too proud of.

“She was a part of one of my last jobs before I left L.A. to lay low and I, uh, I fell in love with her. I’m still in love with her. I don’t know what my life would look like if I wasn’t in love with her, you know?”

Her face screwed up in disgust, and she all but slammed the mug down, whispering furiously. “Are you mocking me? Did you seriously just regurgitate the plot of Ride or Die to me? That’s the story you’re going with? One that isn’t even your own?”

“Huh, what? What are you –”

The speakers crackled and a mic squeaked as who Logan assumed to be President tapped the surface of it, cutting off his response.

“Hello everyone, I hope you’re all having a wonderful night so far. As most of you may know, my name is Arnie Harris, and I’m the President of Harris Publishing. When my grandfather founded Harris Publishing back in 1901, he only did so because he wanted to be able to publish a few of his wife’s poems as a gift. Publishers refused to register it under her name, so he made his own company so my grandma could achieve her dream of being a published author, and throughout the years, we’ve been committed to giving voices to women and minorities alike.

“This year’s been one of our best yet, and I’m so thankful to our new authors for seeing something in us and our mission statement. A big thank you to everyone here tonight – Editing, Marketing, Finance, all the staff and employees, hell, the caterers here tonight, valets, everyone. Tonight wouldn’t be possible without you.”

He droned on for a bit longer before the Vice President took the stage, and she began introducing the newest authors that they’d signed that year.

They’d copped quite a few best sellers, which was impressive. Each author took the stage briefly to thank Harris Publishing and give a brief summary of their goals for the next few years.

Renée was ignoring him at that point, refusing to even look his way. He’d be more upset about that if he wasn’t scanning every inch of the room for Raquel, trying desperately to spot the rose colored tulle and midnight hair in the crowd.

“– and the last author of the night, the number one young adult New York Times’ Best Seller for five months and counting, Raquel Olvera with Ride or Die!”

His head snapped towards the stage, his eyes wide. “What the fuck –”

“Renée, she… who…”

“She’s our top seller. The one I said didn’t wanna be in the promos?” She answered flatly, still staring straight ahead.

“Renée, that’s – that’s her, that’s the girl I’m in love with –”

“Oh, please –” She stopped when she saw how genuinely caught off guard he was. “Oh my god, you’re not lying.”

“No, that’s her – I didn’t think – I ran into her outside and she said we’d talk later, but I – I didn’t think she was coming back inside for this –”

“You’re who she wrote about,” Renée whispered, her eyes as wide as Logan’s were, words beginning to slur just a bit. “Holy shit, I just thought the names were a coincidence, but no, you’re him.”

“What… huh?”

“Oh, Logan…” Her eyes filled with tears. “Ride or Die is about you, your old crew, and how she fell in love with you.”

His heart sank. “About me?”

She nodded. “She changed most of the names but kept some, including yours. The ending… you really had to leave L.A. to flee the cops?”

He nodded. “The feds were on our tails.”

“My god… she’s so in love with you. You have to go to her,” Renée shook her head, her hair swaying around her. “No hard feelings at all. You can’t let her go – I’m serious.”

She’d taken the stage, and had begun thanking people while Logan and Renée whispered furiously at each other. By the time they looked up, she was beginning her speech.

“I never really set out to become a writer. Even though I’m a published author, I don’t really feel like one. Every time I step back to assess the response I’ve gotten to ‘Ride or Die’, I’m rendered speechless without fail. I just wanted an outlet to get my story out, and surprisingly – thankfully – the lovely staff of Harris Publishing decided to take a chance on me. I never thought this level of success was possible, and I’m so grateful for everyone here.”

She held for applause, smiling as though she was grateful for each clap.

“But beneath the positivity and praise I’ve received, I’m still healing. I’m still hurting. Most people know that ‘Ride or Die’ is somewhat of a true story. And yes, I know there’ve been discussions on whether this is a fake autobiography and that I wrote this for attention. Honestly, for the first year after they left, I wished that it was fake, because I was in a lot of pain. Emotionally, I was in shambles.

“I’ve loved telling my story as a form of therapy, but I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone. The love of my life vanished into the night and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. No closure, no healing, no moving on.

“Stagnancy’s been the norm for me for so long that I forgot what life was like when I was smiling every day. I’m still getting used to happiness being an everyday feeling for me.”

Raquel shook her head, taking a deep breath and dabbing at the corner of her eyes. The audience took this cue to clap again, encouraging her to continue.

Logan watched the monitor on the wall, which zoomed into her face, catching her dazzling brown eyes. He was in awe. She was tough as nails with a heart of gold and he still didn’t deserve her.

“I thought that a life without love was bleak, and that I was doomed to suffer because I didn’t know if I’d ever see Logan again.”

She took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“I’ve realized that I’m surrounded by more love than I know what to do with. By those who love my story, who resonate with my story, and who want or already have a Logan of their own. I get to experience love every day through that affirmation, and I took it for granted till… well, tonight, honestly.

“The end of the story wasn’t really the end of the story for me. I thought that ‘Ride or Die’ was the first and final book, and I’ve been terrified for a while that by the time the hype for this book died down, so would my hope, and I’d have to move on… but like I’ve said, the closure I’ve craved is in everyone that carries my story with them. You’re all healing me by making me feel seen and heard and loved.

“This might be a lot for a speech at a fancy event at the publishing company that signed me, but through all of you who’ve made this possible, I feel like the version of me from years ago when I hopped in a sports car with a stranger who later turned out to be the love of my life.

“The adrenaline, the lust for life, feeling alive – I owe it all to you. Thank you.”

The cheers were raucous by the time she stepped off stage.

Logan’s throat was tight – she still loved him no matter how much it hurt.

Jesus fucking Christ, he would never deserve her.

Renée was sniffling next to him, hand over her mouth. “Logan, you seriously need to go to her. You can’t let her get away again.”

He pulled her in for a quick hug, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. You really do deserve so much better than me.”

She grinned and patted his cheek lightly. “You’ve never been more right.”

He turned, darting towards the doors, shoving past anyone and everyone to get outside.

When he made it out of the doors, he ran smack into Raquel.

Thankfully, the only people outside of the room were the security guards, who’s attention was focused on the front door.

Raquel pulled him down the hallway and stopped at the last door on the left, a sign with her name on it taped to the outside of the door.

She fumbled with the keycard, her hands trembling.

“Shit –” she cursed, the card tumbling from her hands and onto the tile floor.

He snatched it off the ground and scanned it in one swoop. Within seconds, she’d shoved the door open and slammed it behind them.

His heart was racing. The last time she’d been this hasty was their final kiss, and he couldn’t fathom going through that again.

She stood in front of him, his back to the door, her gaze trained on his chest.

From his height he can see that her face is contorted, but she buries her face in her hands before he can get a good look.

“She looks just like me.” Her voice was a mere whisper, like she couldn’t manage anything more than that.

His heart sank to his feet. “Raquel –” “You say you didn’t know I was going to be here, but then why’d you date someone that works at the same company my book’s being published at?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t come here with the intention of hurting you,” he started, gently resting a palm on her shoulder. “Especially knowing how hard it’s been for you, I –”

He broke his sentence off, cursing himself. “Shit, I didn’t know you were having just as hard a time as me. I figured you’d go to college and meet someone better than me. I don’t know.”

“You can’t just say you expected me to move on because you clearly haven’t. What, is her name Rachel or something?” She pulled back, putting a step of space between them.

He shook his head. “Renée.”

“It even starts with the same letter,” she shook her head, biting her lip. “You thought I’d move on so you started dating the first person that reminded you of me?”

“I – I’m –” He stuttered, dumbfounded that she’d gotten it in one try, as much as he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I want you to understand why I’m upset, Lo. You came back to L.A. because you thought there was a possibility that you’d see me again, but you ‘figured I’d move on’. You’re seeing a girl that looks like she could be related to me, yet you’re avoiding discussing that. “I’m mad because while I’ve been trying to heal, you’ve been making yourself suffer, and that’s not fair to Renée. You had no idea if you were gonna see me again so you tried to get the next best thing. You have to see why that’s fucked up, Lo.”

“Even if I was dating Renée because she reminded me of you, none of that matters now.”

“You can’t just dump Renée because you took one look at the girl you dated for a month years ago and decided you wanted her instead –”

“Stop. Don’t try to downplay your role in my life, Raquel. You’re not ‘just the girl I dated’, alright? I loved you then and I love you now.”

“You can’t love me and string her along at the same time, Logan,” she furiously whispered, her voice nearing hysterics.

He blinked, shaking his head. “Did… you think I was coming here to show you that I’d moved on? And wanted to rub it in your face?”

She chewed the inside of her lip, her dark brown eyes downcast. “Maybe.”

“Renée ended things first. Just now, actually. The minute she realized that I’m the Logan from your book, she told me I needed to go to you,” he reassured her, reaching out to tip her chin up with a crooked finger, forcing her to meet his eye.

“Raquel, I had no fucking clue you’d written about us and the old crew. All these years, I’ve always known how much I love you but… goddamn, I didn’t know you loved me the way I loved you.”

Her eyes glistened, her surprised laugh coming out as a soft sob.

“So… you really do love me? It wasn’t just circumstance?” She asked, leaning into his palm when he slid his hand up to cup her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter how we felt back then, baby. None of that matters now because we fell for each other while we were apart,” he smiled softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss on her lips.

“God, I love you,” she whispered against his lips, deepening the kiss.

“Say it again,” he murmured. “I need to hear it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated, louder, more confident this time. “I’ll say it as many times as you want, as long as you say it back.”

“I love you,” he said, no hesitation, tangling his fingers through her hair and pulling her in again.

The only time they came up for air was to whisper sweet affirmations against each other’s skin before delving back into silently relearning what they could about each other.

Logan had never been the best with words, and he was at peace with that. He knew that when it mattered, he’d show it. And in the dim lighting of Raquel’s green room, he showed her over and over just how much she meant to him.

Kiss by kiss, they adhered themselves to each other, undoubtedly deciding they’d never let each other go again.

She wasn’t Raquel. That much was obvious. She’d grown into much more than the timid girl he’d met on her 18th birthday, and even more than the headstrong driver he’d left behind.

And he loved her this way and that way – any way he could get her. His love for every version of her was boundless, incomparable to anything he’d ever felt before.

#playchoices #choices rod #rod logan #rodaw #rodtimecapsule #jade writes choices fics

33 notes · View notes

slyttherins · 3 years

Text

Quidditch camp (part 2) | Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: You and Fred attend quidditch camp like every summer, but, this year, there’s been a mistake in the cabin and rooming situations. In other words, they’re short of bed and you and Fred will have to share.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word count: 1800

You hadn't talked to - or even looked at - Fred since the kiss.

Once you pulled away from the kiss, you had made a beeline for the bathroom, no longer caring that there was no hot water. A cold shower would do you good - and it was apparently very beneficial for the skin.

Anything to not be in the same room as him.

At supper, you sat with Angelina and Katie. You talked about the afternoon training session, which will cause your legs to ache in the morning and the latest gossip going around in the girls' cabin. Apparently, a girl had snuck into Cedric Diggory's cabin last night - according to Angelina the suspect was Cho Chang - and Madam Hooch was furious.

Most importantly, you didn't tell them what happened at the cabin.

Unconsciously, as Katie was telling you about a new broomstick trick she learned this afternoon, your eyes drifted to the redhead Beater - and the kiss you had shared. The same kiss that had left you wanting more.

Although Fred was three tables away from you, you could still feel his hands on you, strong and firm but not too rough, smell his woody soap and hear the soft sounds of appreciation leaving both your mouths as his warm tongue slipped past your lips and easily found yours. You couldn't believe you had let it escalate to that. At least no clothes had been removed - Fred was just in his shorts, but it still counted.

After supper, you left and went to your cabin, faking a headache. You'd usually follow the girls to their cabin and hang out until curfew, but not tonight. You needed time to think and, most importantly, get your mind off of Fred Weasley. Perhaps reading a book would help?

That didn't work for long because the twins walked in the cabin less than twenty minutes later, laughing about some prank they had pulled on one of the younger campers.

''It was brilliant, Freddie! Who knew Chambers could scream that high pitched,'' George said, talking about the prank.

''That image is forever engraved in my mind. Spiders! Spiders! They're gonna get in my pants!'' Fred mocked, imitating Chambers. ''It was hilarious.''

''How did you find so many spiders?''

''There's a whole colony behind Ron's cabin. I lured them into a cup and-'' Fred stopped himself when seeing you on the bed, his mood dropping and changing.

''Hey, Y/N,'' George greeted with a smile, going to his side of the cabin. ''You're here early.''

''I wasn't feeling good. I think it's the heat,'' you explained. If you were consistent with your lie and told everyone the same thing, no one would suspect it was a lie.

''Well, get some rest. Tomorrow's game day. We play against the Phoenixes.'' George fished for his toiletries and slung his towel on his shoulder. ''I'm gonna shower.'' He looked between you and Fred. ''Try to not kill each other while I'm in there, alright?''

Fred sat on his brother's bed and waited until the shower was running to speak. ''So...are we going to talk about it?''

''Talk about what?'' you asked, faking ignorance.

Fred gave you a stern look. ''Don't play that game, Y/L/N.''

You sighed. Forgetting it happened would've been so much simpler.

It's not like the kiss meant anything. It was just that, a kiss. There was no need to make a fuss about it.

''There's nothing to talk about.'' You closed your book and stood, slipping on your shoes and headed outside for a walk.

''Where are you going? I thought you had a headache.''

''I do, but hearing your voice makes it worse.''

The match against the Phoenixes was not going well.

McLaggen was sick, therefore he was sitting out this one, which left his keeper position to one of the younger - and less skilled, campers. Much to their bad luck, the young boy had let in five goals in a row. Five! He was probably nervous for his first time on the field, but five goals was a lot of points.

You were scheming the field, trying to spot the snitch, but, much to your luck, the only thing in your vision field was Fred's abs - which was distracting. To your defense, it was Fred's fault for bringing the bottom of his quidditch jersey up to his face to wipe away sweat. The little fucker also purposely flexed his abs a little every time he did it. You tried to look away, but those abs were difficult to look away from. Damn you, Fred Weasley!

Fred's exibitionist manners caused you to miss the snitch and, by the time you had snapped out of your staring, Cho had caught the snitch.

''Maybe McLaggen is right. Maybe we should fuck,'' Fred declared after the match, removing his protective gear.

You almost sputtered your water all over yourself. ''Excuse me?'' you asked, hoping you had heard wrong.

''You and me. We should fuck.''

A laugh left your lips. ''Did a bludger hit your head?''

''You were looking at me, weren't you? That's why you didn't see the snitch.'' A smug smile curled on his face. ''Do you have a crush on me, Y/L/N?''

''Wow, that bludger must've hit your head really hard, uh?''

''I'm not going to tell the team...if you accept to have sex with me.''

What?! You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

''Are you blackmailing me into having sex with you? You know that's sextortion, right?''

Fred shook his head. ''No. I'm saying, it's been proven that sex raises endorphins and other hormones that boost mood. Perhaps if we release those good hormones we won't be at each other's throat and picking fights during games...or staring at the other. It would be for the team's sake.''

You scoffed. ''The team's or your dick's sake?''

''I'm being serious, Y/N. Think about it.''

The time had been set. Friday, during the campfire, while everyone's attention would be occupied, you and Fred would slip to your shared cabin and...do it.

You didn't want to let it get to your mind, but it was all you could think about throughout the day. While the plan could work and ease the tension between you two, there was a possibility that the sex would go wrong - or be bad - and make things worse inside the team. You were also worried that it would be awkward afterward or that Fred would tell everyone.

During seeker training, you weren't flying your best. Madam Hooch had noticed that your mind was elsewhere and questioned you about it. You lied about not getting enough sleep the night prior and vowed to not stress yourself over tonight.

It was only a big deal if you made it one, right? To prove yourself, you didn't dress special - other than matching your underwear to your bra. It was just Fred, you didn't need to impress him. You didn't even put on lipgloss!

You started with kisses, slowly getting comfortable with each other, but quickly wanting more. His ginger hair smelled of smoke from the campfire and his lips tasted something sweet - roasted marshmallows. You hummed, slipping your hands under his shirt, feeling the curves of his abs and back. Merlin, you loved those.

''Did you lock the door?'' you asked, not wanting to be walked in on by any of your cabin buddies.

Fred hesitated and you sighed, going to lock it yourself.

When you returned to Fred, he had discarded his shirt, leaving him shirtless and you had to hold yourself back from biting your lip. Damn, that body.

Seeing as it was unfair that he was the only one who had taken off clothes, Fred helped you take off your top. You should've felt exposed, but it wasn't the first time he saw you in a bra and it wasn't much different than bikini tops, right? But, this bra was a little sexier than the sports bra you usually wore and, by the look Fred was giving you and your body, he didn't hate it.

''Ohh, I didn't know you owned other things than sports bras, Y/L/N,'' he teased, gliding the pad of his finger on the edge of the black lace.

You swatted him and he laughed.

His lips found their way back to yours, hands exploring each other's bodies. You felt the backs of your legs hit his bed and fell back onto it due to a not-so-gentle shove from Fred. You narrowed your eyes, but Fred joined you, crawling on top of you.

Small moans left your lips as he kissed the side of your neck and your hands went to his hair, keeping him there. He was probably going to give you a bruise and it could be a bitch to cover up, but you'll worry about that later.

No. No more kisses. You were running tight on time.

You snapped out of your bubble and pulled Fred off of your neck. If you wanted to be finished before anyone realized you two had vanished from the campfire, you needed to get straight to business and not fool around too much.

Sparing you both some time, you arched your back off of the mattress and unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. You took a mental note to pick it up later to not give Oliver another reason to complain about sharing his cabin with a girl.

As you laid there, topless under Fred, the boy couldn't help but stare at your breasts, hunger in his eyes. He bit his lip and covered them both with his large hands, thumb brushing against one of your nipples, watching it harden.

''Weasley! Less ogling, more fucking. We don't have all night.''

''If you talk to anyone about this-'' you warned, pulling on your denim shorts and buttoning the button.

Fred emerged from the bathroom, having discarded the proof of your sexual intercouse at the bottom of the trash to cover your tracks. You couldn't let any of the boys see the used condom.

He scoffed. ''Don't flatter yourself, this was nice, but I'd rather no one knows.''

Was he embarrassed of having slept with you? It couldn't be. It was his idea - technically it was McLaggen's - to have sex.

''Because, you know, we'd get in trouble if Madam Hooch found out,'' he continued explaining, slipping on his shirt and running his hand through his hair to fix them.

Yeah, sure. That was the reason.

Everyone knew having sex on campsite was strictly forbidden and had great consequences - aka, sitting out matches - if Madam Hooch found out, but that didn't stop campers from sneaking around and doing it.

''I mean, it was fun, but you're not worth sitting out matches for.''

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fic #quidditch camp #harry potter #harry potter prompts #this one is a bit shorter but there WILL be a part 3

54 notes · View notes

leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 41

Chapter 41

Series Masterlist

A/N: As I mentioned this chapter is pure filth (18+). I honestly was going to start writing what was supposed to be 41 (now will be 42) when this idea came to me and I ran with it. It’s long and it’s dirty ;)

There are some flashbacks in italics. Basically the chapter starts with current time and will have some flashbacks to conversations over the last couple days. It flips back and forth a few times until the flashbacks catch up with the current situation. Hopefully it’s not too confusing…

Warning: Drinking, swearing, smut, oral sex (female receiving), public sex, anal, daddy kink, spitting, maybe a little cum play, NSFW, alluding to cheating

Word Count: 11500

You continue to grind up against Allie, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. Even from this distance you can tell his pupils are blown with lust. You blow him a kiss which finally breaks his glare, a soft smirk spreads on his face. However it leaves as quickly as it comes.

“I’m gonna get a drink” you say after another song.

“Don’t” Allie whines.

“It’s my bachelorette I’m supposed to drink” you shimmy out of your friends embrace walking over to a corner of the club. You find Kyle and his group of friends, joining into a conversation with them for a couple minutes before you walk up to the bar alone.

“Your boyfriend let you out of the house like that” you hear a husky voice in your ear. His breath is warm as his hands grip your hips pinning you against the bar.

“My fiancé doesn’t get a say in what I wear” you snap back. His one hand leaves your hip to flag down the bartender and order a drink. You could take this opportunity to wrangle away from his grasp. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love how his knee is slotted between your thighs. Or how if you grind your ass back slightly you would feel his cock growing between the two of you.

“Fiancé" he muses pressing back against you. His cologne envelops the air around you, as his hand returns to your hip pulling you back against him. Your core heats up and your panties dampen and if he were to lift his knee just a few more inches you’d leave a wet mark on his dark denim.

You exhale and he presses back into you, pinning you against the bar, if he wasn’t pressed into you so hard your legs would give way. His lips ghost over your skin and you shudder at the feeling.

The sound of glass hitting the wood snaps you from your trance. He leans over you causing your breath to catch in your throat, handing you a shot. Your favourite shot.

“Babe why do I have to do a bachelorette party” you whine sitting down on the bed beside an open and empty suitcase.

Fred walks out of the closet with a few pieces of clothes setting them in a pile on the bed. He begins folding them, filling the suitcase “because I’m having a bachelor party so the girls said you had to have a bachelorette.”

“They are so outdated, the whole last night of freedom crap" you grab a pair of shorts and fold them setting them inside for him.

“Yeah I lost my freedom five years ago" he jokes causing you to roll your eyes.

“Babe all I wanted was to have some beers, play a little golf and have some steaks” he presses his lips to your forehead. “We don’t always get what we want.”

He chuckles and walks back to the closet, you following close behind. You lean against the door frame as he walks over to his suits scanning through them “so because Auston wants a stripper I have to have a party.”

You walk forward pulling out the suit you planned on him wearing to match you. You are flying to Vegas in a couple hours for the NHL awards which are tomorrow night, and then the following night is your bachelor/bachelorette parties. Auston argued that almost everyone would be there so it made sense to do them then, and the few remaining party guests could be flown down.

You however know that he wants to throw Fred a wild party, and Vegas is the perfect place for it. You tried to object but were quickly overruled by multiple members of the wedding party who all agreed. Now five of your friends are flying down to meet you and some of the WAG’s from players in Pittsburgh and also a couple from his time in Toronto.

“I told him no strippers" he laughs grabbing his garment bag to put his suit in.

“Really? I told Carlee I expect a stripper” you raise an eyebrow with a smirk. Fred stops what he is doing and brings his eyes up to you as he scans over your face.

“I can’t tell if you’re serious" he hangs the garment bag back in the closet.

“What if I am, would it bother you?” you ask innocently batting your large eyes at him.

He takes a few steps closer “I mean you’ve seen me naked right?” He scoffs moving his hand over his body, flexing his other arm under his t-shirt. His bicep bulges out from under the white cotton, and you use all your energy to not react.

“Yeah but you don’t put on strip shows for me" you grab a pair of socks from the folded laundry pile you have yet to put away and wander to the bedroom shoving it in the bag.

You don’t need the socks; your suitcase was packed hours ago. It’s bait. And you smirk when you hear Fred’s footsteps behind you.

“I can strip for you" he says pushing you back onto the bed. Pulling his phone out he scrolls through before finding a song and setting it down.

You almost choke when “pour some sugar on me" by Def Leppard begins to play on the speaker. “This is your stripper song" you tease.

“I picked a random playlist" he laughs peeling his shirt off as a blush hits his cheeks “shut up.”

He walks back to be a few feet from you and begins to rock his hips reaching for his belt. You lean back on the palm of your hands as he drags the leather through the loops. The sound of his buckle crashing on the floor echoes in your room.

Next he undoes his button and zipper. When he thrusts his hips forward your breath catches in your throat your entire body heats up. You smirk and playfully bring your hand to the side of your face pretending to fan yourself and he smirks, turning around his thumbs slide under the waistband of his shorts. Sticking his ass out he begins to toy with them, slowly pushing it down his glutes, letting you catch a glimpse of his navy blue boxers.

While his showmanship isn’t the best (he isn’t exactly known for being a good dancer); your entire body is on fire.

You want to pull him into the mattress and sit on his beard while your cum drips down your thighs coating his face. You want to pin him to the bed and ride him until your core can’t handle anymore and your legs are trembling. But before you can Elise’s cries come through the baby monitor causing Fred to stop.

“Not fair the stripper won’t have to compete with a crying baby" he does his zipper back up.

“No but he does have to compete with you" you stand up closing the gap. You breathe in his faint cologne putting your hands on his waist toying with the elastic of his shorts. “And there’s no competition babe" you press a kiss to his lips before heading to the door.

“Fred" you call out turning in the doorframe. “I said no strippers at mine either" you grin before leaving to head to the nursery.

“Bottoms up" he throws it back quickly as he watches you do the same, wincing slightly at the burn. Once your empty glass is on the bar his mouth is on your neck, cold and wet lips kissing your skin.

A light moan slips from your lips and you push your ass back, grinding against his bulge. He turns you around, hands on your hips dark eyes staring down at you. He parts his lips, tongue flicking over them; ready and waiting to be kissed.

His lips connect to yours as his nails dig into the thin material of your black dress. A kiss so fiery, it punched the breath from your lungs.

“My fiancé might see" you giggle pushing him away and taking a few steps towards a hallway. He grips your wrist pulling you back into his hard chest.

His eyes are dark and hungry with fire as your arms wrap back around his neck. Your head foggy from the alcohol you have consumed.

“Let him" he groans sliding his hands down your side before stopping on your ass walking you backwards down the hall.

“He plays hockey so he won’t hesitate to fight you" you groan and his mouth attaches to your neck. He has you pinned against the wall; the music in the club has the floor bouncing under your feet.

“I’m sure I could take him" he bites into your collarbone pulling a gasp from you. Your head turns and you lock eyes with Carlee and Allie. Their eyes narrow as they give you disapproving looks before you are dragged down a hall and around a corner before being pushed into a single bathroom, the door locking behind him.

Once the door locks you are immediately on him, hands running through his hair struggling to grab at anything, your tongue sloppily in his mouth. You can faintly taste tequila being masked by the whiskey on his tongue as he bends down to pick you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks further into the room. He sets you on the counter, one hand trailing up your thigh before sliding under the hem of your barely there dress.

“Do me a favor?” Fred is on top of you, a hand under your shirt, his shirt, lightly pressing circles with the pad of his thumb. He pulls it off throwing it aside and his mouth quickly attaches to your nipple replacing his thumb, his tongue flicking over it.

It’s the morning after the awards and you are enjoying a few more minutes with him before he leaves to go to his hotel room one floor down. You both agreed it made sense for you to have your own rooms for the night. This way all the women could drink and get ready in the suite before dinner and it has enough beds that your friends from back home can sleep there without needing to book a room. This way you wouldn’t have to worry about waking the other person up crawling into bed at the end of the night.

“What" you moan softly running your hands over his broad shoulder.

“Wear some baggy jeans” he sucks gently on your neck “a thick turtle neck" he gently nips your skin. “Hair in a bun, maybe skip showering today…”

“So you want me to go out looking terrible” you laugh gently.

“No” his head pops up. “You’re still going to look amazing like that. I just think less people will hit on you. I know what every guy will think if you wear something short and tight.”

“Fred” you groan.

“I know because I think it every time I see you in something short at tight. I won’t enjoy myself knowing that someone is thinking those things about my fiancé.”

“Uhuh" you groan as his hand connects to your nipple to gently pinch it. “I actually got you something so women won’t approach you. So they’ll know you’re taken.”

“Okay" he stops what he is doing, looking at you with blown pupils. You crawl out of bed and walk over to your suitcase pulling out a white tee and throwing it at him.

“Oh my god" he laughs opening it to see a custom shirt with a picture of your face printed on it. The words “back of ladies I’m taken” printed in big letters around it.

“I will wear this ridiculous shirt" he smiles. “But you" he pulls you back into bed hard causing you to squeal. “You have to cover these up" he gives your breast a soft squeeze. “And this" he reaches around to cup your ass.

His large hand presses into your thighs and his mouth ventures down your body finding the valley of your breasts. He licks between them before sucking on the curve of one; his thumb grazing over your clothed core.

“Fuck you’re so wet" he groans pulling the fabric aside so his calloused thumb can connect to your clit.

Your head falls back against the wall as he presses firm circles into you. Soft breathy moans fill the room and you practically feel his dick twitch at the sounds.

Your hands slide down his body, fumbling with his belt buckle before it finally gives way. You shove his pants and boxers down his ass a few inches, freeing his bulging cock. It slaps against his stomach and you lick your lips thinking about taking him in your mouth.

“Not now" he orders following your gaze. “I want to last, and if you wrap your pretty little lips around it I won’t.”

“I can’t believe were doing this" you eye around to the bathroom.

“What" he presses his pants and boxers down his broad thighs leaving them in a bunch at his ankle. His cock sapping against his stomach echoes through the room. “We’ve fucked in a bar bathroom before, been a bit but we’ve done it.”

He steps closer putting a hand on your hip as your legs wrap back around him, his hard member poking at your entrance.

“Last night of freedom or whatever” Fred smirks sinking inside your slick heat.

“Promise me something” you roll on top of him, hips straddling him.

“Anything babe” his thumb drawing soft circles on your hip.

“None of those last night of freedom dare lists” your hips roll against his throbbing erection.

“Dare lists?” he bucks his hips pressing it into your clothed core.

“Yeah those lists people do at their bachelor/bachelorette party” you grind down and he groans cupping your breasts in his large hands. He gently massages your breasts before rolling your nipple throw his two fingers.

He sits up bringing your nipple into his mouth leaving you gasping and forgetting your words briefly. “You know” you moan “get so many numbers…kiss someone…dance with a group of the opposite gender” you barely can form sentences through your moans. “Like a list of things to do on your last night as a single person. Like it’s okay to give out your number just because you’re not actually married.”

“I don’t think they do those at bachelor parties” he hums against your skin. “Think it’s more of a bachelorette thing” his teeth run across your pert nipple.

“But regardless I promise” he flips you on your back pulling your shorts down your legs.

Your black thong is hanging around your ankles, dress bunched up above your hips as he bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck Fred” you groan feeling him perfectly stretch you out.

“Du har det så godt (you feel so good)” he huffs in your ear.

His hand slides down your body connecting to your clit as your nails dig into his shoulder. He pulls back almost completely before slamming his hips into your pelvis. Beads of sweat roll between the valley of your nipples, the mirror beside you beginning to fog.

“Geez” you groan not having seen this side of Fred in a while. Your eyes drop down his body. Having not removed his shirt you only see glimpses of his cock beneath the fabric as it slams in and out of your wet walls.

“You didn’t think you’d get to go out dressed like that and not pay for it did you?” he asks thumb releasing your clit to slide around your body and grip the back of your thigh. His other hand harshly digs into your skin pulling you to the edge of the counter. You know he is leaving bruises crescent shaped marks on the back of your thighs, marks that are well below the hem of your dress.

He knows it too. A warning to any other man who thinks of looking your direction that you’re taken.

“No" Allie yells as you step out of the bathroom in black vegan leather leggings and a bright red loose and flowy top. You have a pair of black boots with a 3 inch heel in your hands to complete the look. While it is simple, the boots spice it up just enough for you.

“We did not come all the way to Vegas for you to dress like that” she scowls eyeing you up and down.

She walks to your closet and pulls out the little black dress you packed by mistake. You actually thought it was a different black dress, and it wasn’t until you unpacked it from your suitcase you realized. That’s when you decided to change your outfit and wear the leggings.

And when you say little it is very little. The hem stops inches closer to your ass than your knees and the cut is significantly lower than anything you’ve worn in over two years, maybe since before Oliver was born. The straps, well you don’t even know why they are there, so thin you think they could snap just by looking at them.

It’s something you had no problem wearing before Oliver. Maybe it’s because you are older now, or maybe it’s because you’re a mother but it’s just not something you wear anymore. Allie however doesn’t let you respond instead pushing you in the bathroom with the dress.

A few minutes later you fluff your hair and stare at yourself. The dress clings to your curves, being tighter than you remember, and the heels make the length feel even shorter.

“Damn" someone yells when you open the door.

“I can’t wear this" you try to pull the fabric down your legs only for it to expose even more of your breasts.

“And why not?” Carlee crosses her arms.

“I’m a mom"

“Yes and that makes you a MILF" she smirks.

“I told Fred -"

“Well it’s a good thing it’s your bachelorette party and your fiancé isn’t around” Steph grins from over her wine glass.

He hastily grabs the thin straps from your shoulders with his teeth exposing your breasts to him. His mouth attaches to your nipple, dragging his teeth along it.

Your moans fill the small bathroom, if the music wasn’t so loud you’d be worried about people in the hall hearing. He pulls away, lips puffy and swollen and you whimper as the cold air replaces with warm mouth.

His hips snap and his nails dig into your skin. You’re hanging off the counter, pulling your bottom lip through your teeth to try and suppress your moans. Pleasure builds in your core, as he thrusts relentlessly in and out. Each time hitting your g-spot.

“Look in the mirror” he brings a hand to your neck giving it a light squeeze as directs your gaze.

You groan vibrates against the hand on your throat. Since having twins your time alone was typically hurried, fear of one off the kids needing you. You forgot how much you love his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing the oxygen from your lungs.

You almost forgot all the things his hands were capable of. Forgot how sometimes you just need to be at his mercy as he takes complete control.

“Watch as I fuck in and out of your pussy" he growls tightening his grip. “Watch your pretty little face fall apart” he muses admiring the mess you’ve become. The mess he made you.

“Next question" Carlee calls grabbing the sheet from Allie. “What is (Y/N)’s favourite thing about you?”

“Easy" you smile twirling your wine glass. “How amazing of a father he is.”

“Boring" Sarah yells with a smile.

“We specifically told him no answers about being parents. Those are too easy and basic" Carlee smirks.

“So besides being a dad, what do you think Fred thinks your favourite thing about him is?”

Heat hits your cheeks and your eyes go wide imagining what he would say. You bury your face in a pillow only to have it ripped from your hands and thrown at you with a giggle. You know they sent him this list while he was away on the road, so you know he had hours to sit around and think of the best possible answer.

“He probably said his dick game" you laugh thinking he would try to give some crazy answers just for the reaction of your friends.

The room fills with laughter “oh my god" you hear someone shriek.

“I mean there’s a reason we have four kids, he’s obviously doing something right.”

“No!” Carlee laughs. “He said his ability to make you smile even on your worst day.”

“Oh" you go quiet as your cheeks turn a bright shade of pink turning to your glass and pouring most of it down your throat.

“Do tell us about his dick game though" Allie yells.

Sweat is collecting along your hairline and you can feel it on your spine. Your mascara is smeared around your eyes, lipstick spread on his face. The lack of oxygen and the thrusting has your vision filling with white spots as your orgasm nears. You still try to bring your gaze to him in the glass, watching as he drags his thick member along your walls.

“You look so good with my cock inside you" he groans squeezing your neck again. You’re on the edge; your whole body feels hot. With a few more deep thrusts your legs seize, your nails dig into his shoulder as your orgasm hits you.

You clench around him and whimper slightly feeling him hit your cervix with each thrust. Your pussy flutters as warm juices drip down his cock soaking your thighs. With a few more thrusts he spills inside you, white coating your walls.

His hips finally still and his hand releases your throat. Before you can regain your breath you feel his lips on yours, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you towards him.

“Marry me" his lips press against yours as you try and recapture your breath.

“I am in a few weeks" you pull back smirking with a few deep breaths.

“No, marry me now. You should have been my wife already. Should have married you in Santorini" he presses his lips against yours.

“Wow this place is beautiful" you run to the open doors that overlook the cliff and the setting sun. The orange reflecting off the waves, the light salty breeze blowing the thin curtains.

“It really is" Fred says coming up wrapping his arms around you as you fall back against his chest. You both stand there speechless for a few minutes taking in the falling sun, basking in the few more minutes of warmth.

“We normally have the ceremony here, so that view is the backdrop of the photos. Sunset is the best time for pictures, and the preferred start time of our guests” a venue guide says to a couple as they walk through the space.

“We should get married" you turn to face Fred wrapping your arms around his hips.

“Yeah we will babe" he laughs putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Let’s do it now” You press a kiss to his sun kissed cheek. “You, me, the sunset. What else do we need?”

Fred’s eyes go wide almost popping from his head and he laughs into your hair.

“Ha you were terrified when I suggested it"

“I think I was more shocked you were suggesting it, you always seemed a step behind me. So for you to be the one to suggest it I was thrown off. But we should have done it" he pulls out slowly and smirks as you whine at the emptiness.

“The next day I suggested more kids. Obviously I wanted a forever with you, should have just married you then” his mouth gently sucks on your sweet spot millimetres from your ear. “Which is why we should do it now. No Elvis impersonator though, has to be classy.”

“The wedding we have planned in a few weeks will be classy" you smile pressing him off you. With a huff he helps you down off the counter. “Waited this long, what’s a couple more weeks.”

“Torture” you hear him mumble as he adjusts himself back into his dark denim pants.

You scan around the room and realize they toilet paper is empty and they have blow-dryers not paper towel. Fred smirks as he brings a finger to your folds, collecting some of the cum that has spilt down your legs and pushes it back inside your sopping core.

“Just helping out" he gives you a few thrusts with his thick fingers before pulling them from you and bringing them up to your mouth and you open allowing him to stick his long digits inside. You moan around his fingers tasting yourself as you eagerly clean it for him. His eyes roll to the back of his head as you swirl your tongue around him before slowly pulling it out.

You pull your underwear back up your legs and smooth out your wrinkled dress. “So was that on your list?” he smirks wiping his hands on his pants.

“I’m not doing this” you throw the piece of paper back at her. You’re sitting at your booth at the third club you’ve been to since finishing dinner. Apparently nobody could decide on where to go so they opted on a bar crawl, and apparently there is one more stop. But given the energy in the club, the large crowds and how much fun everyone is having you can’t imagine leaving to go anywhere else.

“When we made this we said we had to do it no matter what” she laughs

“Yeah but were not sixteen anymore. When we were teenagers we thought you’re supposed to have a wild bachelorette party. But this is basically cheating.”

You remember the day like it was yesterday. The three of you sitting on Allie’s bed coming up with this list, you all promised that each of you would complete it whenever your bachelorette parties occurred. You had no idea what types of things normally happen and went strictly off of movies for inspiration. Now you can’t imagine doing most of these items.

“Okay, we’re not saying make out with a stranger or dry hump someone on the dance floor” Carlee says folding the list in her purse.

“But you can easily do these things and keep it all G rated. Kiss on the hand, on the cheek still counts and that’s not cheating” Allie adds.

“Fine” you grumble scanning around the bar before landing on a group of men. There is about eight of them standing around the bar, one is leaning against it. He is tall with light blonde hair and is laughing at something his friends said when he sees you and shoots you a smile before turning back to his friends.

“I hate you guys” you groan taking the shot from the centre of the table. You wince at the burn, setting the glass upside down on the tray. “You’re coming with me” you grab their hands and pull them forward with you.

Upon approaching the group of men you discover they are there for a bachelor party. A bachelor party for Kyle; the man who smiled at you just moments ago. You inform them it’s your bachelorette party, and without even waiting for your prompting Kyle asks to see your bucket list for the evening. He tells you his fiancé sent him a picture of the list she has to do, and is more than willing to assist you. Knowing that he is there for his bachelor party and won’t make any attempt to hit on you; you feel comfortable doing these tasks with them.

“What’s next?” Kyle asks taking a sip, having just completed the kiss a stranger tasks (on the cheek obviously). He pulls the list from Carlee’s hands before you even have a chance to answer him. “Oh this one next” he grabs your arm leading you out onto the dance floor where a couple of his friends are.

“Dance with a group of guys” he explains pushing you into the centre.

Some of the guys step up closing the gap but still leaving space between you. You feel a pair of hands loosely on your hips as you all sway and dance to the music. But you also have this feeling you are being watched. Scanning around the club you see many groups of people, but can’t pinpoint the lingering gaze.

“Shots” Sarah yells carrying the tray towards the group. Handing them out to everyone, her and Carlee join in with dancing. A few songs have gone by and everyone is laughing and having a good time. That’s when you feel it again.

You feel a pair of eyes burning a hole in your head as you wrap your hands around Carlee’s neck. Her hands find your hips and she pulls you in close so you can smell her shampoo.

“Thanks for tonight” you tell over the music and she kisses your cheek in response “for making me do this.”

“Love you baby” she winks. You feel another pair of small hands on your hips and a body presses up behind you.

“You have an admirer” Sarah says from behind bringing her hand to your jaw moving your head to the side. You find a familiar pair of dark brown eyes, Fred’s eyes, watching your every move over the rim of his glass. You give him a soft smile and he doesn’t give one in return, instead his eyes narrow. He doesn’t pull his eyes from you as he leans over to talk with Mitch and you now realize the glances you felt were from him.

“He’s looks mad” Carlee says her head falling onto your shoulder. The three of you continue to dance the group of guys still around you. Slowly after a few more songs some of the guys filter off the dance floor until it’s just you and your group left.

You watch as a group of women approach Fred and his friends. You smirk when a blonde in thigh high boots wedges her way between him and Mitch and tries to talk to him but he doesn’t give her the time of day. Some of the guys in relationships at least humor the women to be polite but Fred doesn’t make any attempt to talk with her, his jaw locked never breaking his gaze.

Regardless she doesn’t stop and it ignites a fire in you. You turn so your ass is to him and begin to bend down shaking it as you go. You almost make it to the floor before snapping it back and working your way up. Steph laughs knowing exactly what you are doing as she smiles and waves to Mitch at the bar. Once back upright you look over your shoulder shooting Fred a wink, if you were any closer you know you would see his cock tightening in his denim.

Next you turn around and grip Allie’s arms pulling her up against you as you grind against her. Mitch and Auston are smirking at the bar as they watch while trying to engage in conversations with the women. But Fred he still hasn’t even glanced at the one beside him.

She attempts to capture his attention by touching his wrist, running her finger along his watch. You blow him a kiss which finally breaks his glare, a soft smirk spreads on his face. However it leaves as quickly as it comes.

You continue to grind up against Allie, but you keep your eyes on Fred. Even from this distance you can tell his pupils are blown.

“I’m gonna get a drink” you say after another song.

“Don’t” Allie whines.

“It’s my bachelorette party I’m supposed to drink” you shimmy out of your friends embrace stumbling away. Blowing past Fred and his group you find Kyle and a couple of his friends in the corner of the bar. You join them for a couple minutes never once staring over at Fred. But the weakness in your knees and moisture pooling in your underwear tells you he is watching your every move.

“You sure knew where this bathroom was pretty easily, take all your girls here?” you tease ignoring his comment.

He throws his head back laughing “I haven’t been in this club in easily six years. But no I never brought any girls here.” He brings his lips to your neck sucking on your ear lobe “before you I had never fucked in a public bathroom.”

“Really?” you smirk raising an eyebrow at him.

“What you fucked in bathrooms before me?” he asks somewhat insulted but also laughing slightly.

“No, never” you wink gripping his wrist and pulling him out the door. The loud music echoes down the dimly lit hall as you take a few uneasy steps. His hands find your hips as pulls you back to his chest, guiding you toward the echoing bass.

“So how many guys have bent you over a bathroom sink huh?” his mouth is so close you feel his beard rub against your skin.

“Fred” you warn.

“That many eh” you can sense some jealousy in his tone. The two of you long ago shared the number of people you’ve dated, and those you can’t quite call dating. But you never dived into the details of where, positions or how many times, mostly because that information wouldn’t achieve anything.

You stop walking and he almost knocks you over. Turning your head to the side your lips so close you can almost taste his chap stick “it doesn’t matter if it was one or five men before you. All that matters is you are the only person who gets to bend me over a bathroom sink from this point on.”

His eyes flick over your face “besides” you smirk “there is no competition. You’ve always been the best at it.”

“Fucking right” you hear him mumble as his arms tighten around your waist and he pushes you forward. You turn your head laughing slightly when you immediately feel him sucking on your collarbone. You try to watch where you are walking but you lose all focus allowing him to take charge. As your arousal rebuilds your eyes flutter closed.

Pulling his lips away briefly he mumbles Danish praises against the shell of your ear. The music gets louder vibrating the floor under you as his mouth returns to your exposed flesh. Before you know it you walk into another hard chest.

A second pair of large hands grip your forearms to hold you in place and you hear a deep seeded chuckle from the man behind you. Taking a step back your eyes open to find Mitch glaring down at you.

“No wonder you guys have four kids" Allie teases from beside you. You can feel some of Fred’s warm cum leaking down your thighs, past where your dress ends.

“You guys can fuck whenever you want, but you can’t even go a few hours without fucking in a bathroom” Auston says somewhat bitterly as he takes a sip of whiskey. He has a smirk on his face so you know he isn’t actually serious. Fred takes a small step back allowing you to put a few more inches between yourself and Mitch.

“Well you’re really not going to like what’s next" Fred replies wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “But we’re gonna leave and go fuck in our hotel.”

“What!” Mitch exclaims. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Our bed is very comfortable" Fred presses his lips to your temple and you lean back against his chest. Normally you would scold Fred for being so blunt but you’ve had just enough alcohol to bring you to a point of little concern. To the point where the words spilling off his tongue turns you on.

“Our shower is very big too" you grin at Mitch.

“You guys are unbelievable” Allie laughs.

“It’s after 2, if we stay much later neither one of us will be in any shape to do that” you raise an eyebrow laughing.

“And we don’t have any kids to worry about so I’m taking full advantage of that. Thanks for the party guys" Fred tugs on your wrist pulling you out of the club not giving anyone a chance to respond.

The streets are packed and loud, cars driving down the strip and music filtering out from the various bars. The cool Vegas air sobering you almost instantly. It’s not that it’s cold; it only dropped a couple degrees since you entered the bar. It’s just that the bar was filled with alcohol, dancing, sweat and body heat, none of that found on the sidewalk.

“Let’s get a taxi" you stop in your tracks squeezing his hand so he turns around to face you.

“It’s like a 10 minute walk” he stares at some of the people on the street as they walk by.

“My feet hurt" you eye down to the boots on your feet.

“Should have worn sneakers" he grumbles.

“Sneakers don’t really match this dress” you roll your eyes.

His eyes narrow and he turns back to you “maybe you should have kept your promise. Instead of dressing like a high class escort" he shoots you a devilish grin.

Your arms cross your chest and your eyes arrow “you just call me, the mother of your children a hooker?”

“High class escort” he grins. “Literally seven different men have checked out your ass since we came out here. And don’t get me started on how many did inside.”

You scan over his face and he chuckles slightly pulling you in to his chest. His arms warp around your back while yours remain crossed between you.

“There is nothing wrong with being a sex worker (Y/N). It’s the oldest profession in the world; I just don’t like when I hear strangers at the bar trying to figure out if my fiancé is one because of her outfit.”

“Men are the worst” you grumble. “I should be able to wear what I want.”

“Mhm I agree and for the record you look amazing. Maybe next time wear something a little longer to the bar and wear this around the house when it’s just us” he brings one hand to tilt your head so he can look down at you.

“I think this dress is perfect to make breakfast in" he smiles causing you to laugh.

“You want me to cook in this"

“Do you know what it would do to me to see you walk around our home in this?"

“Have an idea" you smirk feeling him getting hard against your leg as your arms wrap around him. “Still can’t believe you called me a prostitute.”

“High. Class. Escort” he emphasizes each word between brief kisses against your lips. “And as long as you come home to me I don’t care what you wear out.”

He nudges his head toward the hotel “let’s go.”

“My feet" you whine. “With four kids I don’t wear heels a lot.”

He shakes his head at you pulling the kid card on him and bends down for you to climb on his back, but as you do your dress rides up even higher.

“Never mind I’m fine" you pull the fabric down and take a couple wobbly steps. The alcohol and heels not mixing well with your balance.

“Babe…what?” he stammers out unsure of what happened.

You walk over to him “my dress is too short and was beginning to ride up. People will see my ass” you whisper as he throws his head back laughing.

“Baggy jeans probably sounds pretty good right now" he begins to unbutton his shirt pulling it off his shoulders leaving him in a white t-shirt.

“Oh my god you actually wore it" you laugh seeing your face on his chest.

“One of us didn’t lie about what we’d wear out tonight" he pulls the shirt over your shoulders. It hangs from your frame, one of the few times being so much shorter is nice. The shirt ends a couple inches below your dress and when you climb onto his back it hangs low enough to keep you covered.

Wrapping your arms around his chest, your chin lands on his shoulder. “You smell good" you say lightly taking in his cologne that is masking the faint smell of sweat.

Your head turns towards his neck and he must feel your warm breath on it. He gives your thighs a tight squeeze mumbling a warning under his breath but you still place a few soft kisses on him.

“(Y/N)” he warns digging his fingers into the bottom of your thighs. “One more minute” but you suck even harder than before.

You notice the bright lights surround you, and realize you are in the hotel lobby but you continue to pepper kisses along his pulse point. The elevator dings open and once inside he almost drops you on the floor.

He quickly has you pinned against the wall, bringing a hand to the inside of your thigh, his thumb grazing over your underwear soaked with his cum. He reaches beside you to hit the button, his body still pressed firmly against yours.

“Fred" you groan. The elevator doors still wide open, anyone can step in and anyone walking by can see. And you are leaving very little to the imagination in your current position.

“I thought you wanted this" he bites your neck as the door begins to close. “Outside you didn’t care if people saw.”

The door finally closes and you feel it shift as you go up. You grip the railing behind you with 2 hands as he begins his assault on your neck. His thumb pushes the strap of your dress off your shoulder, your breast popping out.

“You really do look phenomenal in this” he brings his knee between your legs, pressing his thigh into your folds. You instinctively roll your hips against his denim clad thighs, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He watches you with a hardened jaw, eyes dark with lust as you grind down on him, leaving a wet trail over his jeans.

His mouth finds your breast as his hands grip your hips, helping to rock you on him. Your moans get louder, drowning out the music playing in the elevator. Before anything else the doors ding and open to the floor with his room.

He firmly grips your hand pulling you out and down the hall as you stumble and try to adjust yourself to cover up. Once in the door you kick your shoes aside dropping his shirt on the ground.

“Babe" you call turning to show him the zipper. He walks over and puts his mouth on your neck sucking gently while he fumbles with the zipper. Slowly he drags it down your body as his mustache tickles against your skin. Once the zipper is down you feel him grab either side of the dress and pull. The sound of fabric tearing fills the room as he his lips curl upwards against your skin.

“Frederik" you huff

“Elskede you know you can’t call me that” he reaches for your underwear tearing it off next, leaving you completely naked.

“Besides this way I don’t have to worry about you wearing that dress out in public again" your shredded underwear lands in the pile on the floor.

“I want to press you against that window and fuck you so bad” he growls as you look out at the Las Vegas sky line. “That way everybody who happens to see in will know your mine.”

You roll your hips backward pressing your ass into his denim. You groan slightly at his words secretly wishing he would. You want to feel the cool glass on your back as sweat drips down your front, his cock deep inside you.

“On the bed" he orders pulling his mouth away and stripping his t-shirt off. You turn around to face him, watching as he reaches for his belt. He begins to remove it before bringing his attention back to you “(Y/N)” he warns.

“Frederik” you tease grinning at him knowing exactly what you’re doing. Anytime you say those three syllables he immediately is in your ear muttering what he is going to do to you.

There is something about the way his full name falls from your lips that unleashes the monster deep inside him, making it a move you often reserve for special occasions.

He takes a step forward and brings a hand to your ass, giving it a hard smack. You grunt as the air leaves your lungs your skin stinging at the contact.

“On the bed, legs spread" he pinches your nipple. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

“Yes sir" you yelp and walk away not wanting to test your luck.

You hear him chuckle and fabric landing on the floor. His footsteps echo through the room, sending chills coursing down your spine. You look up and are met with his naked body towering over you. With a dry swallow you take in his chiseled torso following his muscles down to his throbbing tip; your pussy clenching at the sight.

His body is sweaty from carrying you home, shimmering in the lights coming through the windows. You sigh when you see his hard cock, mouth-watering wanting to wrap your lips around his swollen tip. Your legs squirm rubbing together, searching for friction while his cum has hardened on your inner thigh.

He drinks you in with a predatory look in his eyes. He brings his bottom lip between his teeth with a wicked grin enjoying the sight of you splayed on the bed waiting for him. He bends down and pulls you by the ankles causing you to squeal bringing you to the edge of the bed, your ass hanging off it.

“You never did listen well" he mumbles falling to his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders. Before you can respond he bites the inside of your thigh, his hands cupping your ass pulling it closer to him.

He continues to nip your thighs while squeezing your ass to roll your hips higher to his mouth. He slowly trails closer to your heated core while your moans get louder.

“Fred" you groan feeling his beard rub against your thigh, his nose pressing into your clit. His warm breath is on our folds sends a chorus of shivers down your spine.

“Please" you whine as he pulls your hips closer.

“So impatient” he mumbles flattening his tongue he licks a stripe up your entrance.

Your hips buck up and he pulls away. He brings his hands to your hips holding you in place. Your head falls back into the pillow while he brings his mouth to your entrance.

His mouth wraps around your pussy and his nose presses into your clit. He sucks hard, nails digging your hips pulling a loud distressed whimper from you. He flicks his tongue in and out a few times before pulling away and climbing over you.

His thumb grabs your jaw pulling your mouth open. Hovering over you he spits into your mouth a mixture of saliva along with both of your cum.

“We taste good eh baby?” he releases your jaw and you swallow staring up at him.

“So good” you groan as one of his long fingers trails over your body and approaches your core. His eyes are dark as he climbs back off the bed throwing your legs back over his shoulders. His fingers dance around your entrance drawing figure eight’s as your back arches in response. Finally he slips two thick fingers in your walls and begins to pump them in and out of you.

“Hear how wet you are” he groans at the sound of his cum acting as a lubricant for his work. Easily he sets a fast pace before his lips return to sucking on your clit. Your hands find his hair and tangle in to the roots. He continues to suck on your clit as he twists his fingers inside you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he continues working on you, drawing your high closer with each thrust of his fingers. You belly tightens as his fingers massage your walls, curling them upward in search of your g-spot.

Your breathing is erratic and your hips lift off the bed, heels digging into his back as he brings your high closer with every thrust.

“You close skat?” he hums against you.

“Ye….yes" you breathe out. “So close” when he instantly stops. His fingers pull out and his mouth is gone, you were on the edge of the cliff and instead of falling over everything disappeared. You lift up on your elbows to look at him “Fred" you groan.

A large smirk crosses his face before he drops your legs wrapping one around his waist. Without warning he slams his hard cock into your folds. Some of his cum from before spills out around his cock.

“Fuck" you groan as he doesn’t give you time to adjust before pulling back and slamming his throbbing cock back inside you. He sets a past pace and your eyes close as your second orgasm quickly approaches. His thumb presses into your clit as he pounds into you. Each frantic pound of his cock bringing you closer to your release.

“You look so good with my hard cock fucking in and out of you” he hisses pulling your other leg over his shoulder. You grip the sheet below you for stability with the change in angle.

“Just like that, take me deep" each word is accompanied by an intentionally harsh thrust as he pulls on your hips drawing you closer to him.

“Freddie. I’m gonna cum" you pant.

“Cum on my cock" he orders. “Come on (Y/N). Cum for me.”

You grip the bedsheets, knuckle going white and you feel your walls flutter drawing him in. He groans feeling you clench around him but doesn’t stop his pace. He is relentless in his movements, searching for your high. He leans closer, pressing your leg down as he slams into you at a feverish pace.

Your juices spill around his cock and he keeps going fucking you through your high. His name rolls of your tongue along with scattered curse words before you finally fall silent, eyes opening to see his dark with fire.

Quickly he pulls out flipping you over with ease. You land on your stomach and he manipulates you to your hands and knees. You stick your ass out for him barely able to support yourself. His hand quickly connects to your bare skin causing you to yell while your skin reddens.

“What were you thinking wearing that out?” his hand connects back to the same spot as before. A tear pricks your eye as you grunt knowing bruises will remain tomorrow.

His hand runs over your skin softly while he waits for a response. “I was going to sneak into your hotel room after my party. Let you see me in it" you explain. “I knew you’d love it…But instead I ran into you at the club.”

“Good thing too, about 6 different men were eye fucking you” he seethes from behind you. His hand connects one more time, this one much firmer than the others. It pulls your breath from you as wetness drips down your thighs. You fall forward onto the duvet and before you can pull yourself up his hard member is spreading your folds once again.

One hand finds your hip, another on your back holding you down to the bed as he begins to thrust in to you.

“You feel so fucking good" Fred groans from behind you.

“I was made for you” you reply as your face rubs against the bed. Sweat is in your hair and dripping down your face, your makeup likely falling victim to it.

“Yes you were" he grunts pulling you back so your ass hits his pelvis. “Fucking perfect.”

His hand leaves the small of your back and trails down to your ass. He slowly draws his index finger over the skin sending shivers through you.

His hand stops at your hole and begins to dance around the entrance as he pounds relentlessly in your cunt. You are an absolute mess under him, unable to stop the loud moans and curse words that are falling from your lips.

His finger continues to play with the skin around your hole.

“Daddy" you whine turning your head over your shoulder to look at him.

His eyes immediately snap up to yours with the unexpected name, his pupils are dark and a wide smirk spreads on his face. You call him daddy all the time with the kids, but this is different.

His pace slows slightly “yes” he replies with an eyebrow raised. “What would you like?”

“My…" he slams into you hard causing your breath to catch in your throat and you trail off. “Your fingers.”

He smiles at you bringing them off your skin and into your line of sight. You nod quickly and he pulls out replacing his cock with his two fingers, pumping them in and out of your throbbing cunt.

“This what you wanted?” he asks but you know he is playing dumb.

“No daddy" you choke out though it does feel good. “I want your cock back there.”

“What about these" he thrusts them quickly in and out of you. You pull your bottom lip through your teeth trying to keep your eye contact. “Where do you want these?”

“My ass" you finally manage to choke out.

He gives you a few more pumps before pulling them out and replacing them with his hard cock. Groaning loudly as he fills you to the brim. He doesn’t move instead his fingers returning to your hole to tease the entrance.

“Daddy please" you whine.

“Because you asked so nicely" his hips resume their pace and your head falls back onto the bed. You feel warm spit land near your hole and he spreads it around before slowly sliding his two thick fingers in.

“Oh my god" you groan feeling them start to slowly move inside you.

You hear Danish begin to spill from his lips but you can’t focus on the words. From what you manage it’s mostly praises and he brings both of you towards your orgasms.

The feeling of being stretched in two places by him isn’t new to you, but it’s definitely not common. The two of you definitely dabbled in some stuff before, but it’s been a couple years since you’ve felt this way.

Every stroke if his cock nudges your cervix with alarming accuracy and his fingers increase their speed as well. You have never felt so full by him before as you cry out under him.

“Cum for daddy" he groans becoming erratic behind you.

“Daddy wants to feel you cum on his cock again" he adds. Unable to hold on you disintegrate underneath him. Your vision goes white as you feel warm liquid spill out round him.

A deep loud guttural moan leaves your lips as he works you through your high. Euphoria floods your veins as you clench on the sheets damp with sweat below you. When your orgasm stops you feel him pull out of both spots and with a few pumps of his hand he spills all over your ass and hole.

He falls onto the bed beside you and you carefully land on your stomach trying to not let any spill onto the duvet.

“Why did you" you start to say between your breaths. The feeling of his warmth inside you is one you’ve grown to love, yearn for over the past few years. Without it you almost feel empty.

“I need it for what I’m going to do next” he sends you a dark smile and kisses your sweaty forehead. Chills course through you as he grabs your hand and pushes it down his sweaty chest to his member.

Rolling onto his side he brings his fingers to your spine and begins slowly drawing circles on your sticky skin. Leaning in he brings his lips to yours, parting your lips with his tongue.

It starts soft almost hesitant until your hand begins to stroke up and down him. He applies more force his tongue sliding into your mouth. He still tastes of alcohol and a faint hint of you; your hand picking up its pace.

His fingers find your hole and begin to play with the cum he left behind. You gasp into the kiss as his fingers slide back inside and begin to pump inside your hole again.

You feel him growing hard under your grip and increase your pace. Mumbling a fuck against your lips his member is fully erect and he pulls away smirking at you.

He crawls out of bed, standing at the edge and pulls your hips closer to him. You rise onto your wobbly elbows and feel him poke at your entrance, though you doubt that’s where he is going.

Once you are situated, grinding back against him, his cock slides up from your folds towards your ass, coating it in a mixture of juices along the way. Finally he reaches your ass and his fingers leave you, his thick tip is pressing against it.

He collects some more cum from your ass, some has since fallen off your curved skin. He pushes it towards your hole and slowly presses in.

“Holy fuck" you groan as his thick head slides inside.

“You okay babe" he asks pushing in inch by inch.

“Perfect daddy" you groan as he continues to press in. Tears stain your cheeks as you grasp the duvet.

“Ugh" you grunt when his pelvis presses firmly against you, finally fully seated in you.

“That’s it, let me in princesse” he hums as you relax around him.

His thrusts are long and deep but also slow, not wanting to hurt you; giving you a chance to familiarize yourself to him there. After a few minutes you pull forward and press back on him. He grunts in response and snaps his hips to increase his pace.

“God I forgot how good this feels" his hands on your hips guiding you back onto him. His balls slap against you “you’re so fucking tight babe.”

Your breathing while it never fully recovered is erratic again. Your moans are whimpers, your body weak barely able to support itself. Every thrust hits you harder and deeper, driving you further into the bed. As he drives into your ass you feel each thrust deep in your overly sensitive core.

“Touch yourself” he orders.

“I can’t” you whine legs trembling under you. He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls your body up, your back pressed against his sweaty chest. One hand curls around your throat, gripping it tightly. His other finds your nipple pinching it hard.

“Daddy said to touch yourself” he growls in your ear slamming his hard member into your ass.” So touch yourself.”

His hand on your throat tightens, leaving you with just enough air as you manage a slight nod. Slowly your hand slides down your body and connects to your overly sensitive bud.

As you begin to rub circles his hand on your throat loosens its grip. You feel some of his cum and begin to spread it around your entrance as you work on your clit.

“Good girl" he praises sinking his teeth into your neck.

You gasp loudly and continue pressing into your clit; drawing soft circles. His hand on your throat has returned to your hip but his other is still pinching and playing with your nipple.

“Slide your fingers in" his breath is hot on your neck. His mustache tickles you but you don’t dare laugh or disobey as two fingers slide inside leaving you whimpering loudly from the back of your throat.

“Such a good girl for daddy” he kisses your sweaty collarbone and releases your nipple pushing you forward.

Your face lands on the duvet and you continue to thrust your fingers in and out at a slow pace, unsure if you can handle anymore.

His hands grip your hips, digging in to your skin likely leaving bruises. He begins to almost completely pull out and slam into you causing you to whimper each time.

“Feels good" he groans as you feel him stutter behind you.

“So good" you pant breathlessly.

“You need to cum" he grunts your breath catching in your throat as you briefly look back at him. His red curls drenched in sweat framing his face.

“I’m not cumming until you do" he growls. He is fast and hard with every thrust, you don’t actually know if he can wait for you.

“Please daddy I can’t" you whine each thrust of your fingers has your walls twitching from the contact.

“You can or I will do it for you" he spits out slapping your ass once again. You know that the second option will come with a series of punishments.

He will likely end up with his head between your legs bringing you orgasm after orgasm from you. Your legs will be trembling and you won’t be able to take anymore but he won’t stop. It’s been a while but he has spent hours between your legs relishing in your whimpers. You almost couldn’t handle it then and you don’t know if you can tonight.

Your fingers press in harder scissoring you open as your thumb finds your swollen clit. Your fingers work inside your warm walls and he rails in you from behind you.

Your back arches further for him “I can’t daddy" you cry considering pulling your fingers out.

“You can and you will" he forcefully thrusts into your ass but you feel it in your slick heat that is ready to snap in two.

You know he won’t last much longer, and you begin to feel your orgasm sliding in a third finger. Your mouth opens in the shape of an O while a silent scream falls from your lips from being filled in every direction.

Finally your orgasm hits you, snapping like a bed spring. Your walls flutter around your fingers, warmth spilling down your wrist onto the bed. Your body tenses at the feeling of him hitting every nerve deep inside you.

As euphoria fills your veins Fred fills your ass. Your entire body seizes and your vision goes black. You feel warmth spill onto your ass as he pulls out. Your entire body falls onto the mattress your fingers still buried deep inside.

Your eyes flutter closed and the bed shifts as he falls beside you. Your body is limp as he pulls you onto his bicep brushing some hair from your sweaty face.

“Hey” he smiles. Your eyes slowly open and are met with his golden brown ones inches away “wondering when you’d come back.”

You groan slightly noticing your fingers are still inside your walls. You shift your weight and slowly pull them out, involuntarily whimpering your pussy still hot to the touch. He presses his lips to your forehead and you drift off.

You don’t know how long it’s been but you can hear Fred whispering as his finger ghosts over your skin, mouth pressed against your sweaty forehead.

“How long was I–“ you trail off unable to muster the strength to open your eyes.

“A half hour or so.”

“I love you baby" you mumble your eyes still closed.

“Love you too" he runs his finger up and down your spine. “Let’s go shower.”

You groan not moving. Your body is covered in sweat, cum dripping out of your ass and down to the bed. You want to shower, need to but your body won’t cooperate.

“I got you" he hums in your ear carrying you to the bathroom setting you on the cool tile bench in the stand-up shower. He turns the water on stepping under the stream while your head leans against the marble wall catching your breath.

“You okay pretty girl?” Fred bends down in front of you having completed his shower while you watched frozen to the bench. Beads of water drip down his chest as he lightly grips your thighs.

“Mhm just enjoying the view" you sigh as he grins at you. “But I’m not sure if my legs work, still a little sore.”

“That’s a shame babe" his large hands firmly squeeze your thigh and he spreads them open slightly. His thumb grazes against your clit causing you to whine.

“You told Mitch we have a large shower" his index finger strokes over your swollen heat. “I was really hoping to use it" you winks at you.

“Tomorrow” you whimper while his nails dig into your flesh.

“I have other plans for tomorrow” he kisses the underside of your jaw lightly.

“I can’t stand" you groan as he plays with your folds.

“S’okay" he smiles “I can.”

He wraps your legs around his back and throws your arms around his neck.

“How are you still going?” you almost laugh.

“One your super-hot” he winks standing up. “Two there is many times I just want to bend you over the kitchen counter or tie you to the bed pulling orgasm after orgasm from you.”

You feel yourself dampen at his words causing you to shudder at the feeling. “But we have four kids so I’m lucky to get a quickey in because we don’t have time and are too tired. Guess you can say I have some built up sexual energy” he chuckles amusement thick in his tone.

“And three" he grips the back of your thighs “you know when I have the perfect amount of drinks I can just keep going.”

Your hands tangle into his hair while he presses you against the cold and wet tile “so I would say tonight I can take advantage of all three.”

“I don’t” you mumble out feeling him poke at your entrance. “I don’t think I can” you whine helplessly.

His mouth finds your neck sucking into your skin while he slowly pulls you down onto him “I know you got a little left baby.” One second you are empty the next you are completely full of his cock.

“Umph" is about all you manage through the familiar stretch.

“You’re okay baby" he smiles “I got you.”

Once he is fully settled inside you he stills and you whimper. You pull your lower lip through your teeth and he watches your face.

“I’m okay” you say after a few minutes bringing a large grin to his face.

“You sure baby?” he asks softly. You can tell this will be different than the others, softer and slower.

“Yeah” you whisper.

Fred immediately thrusts up pulling some curse words from you. Your nails dog into the back of his neck while his dig into your hips.

He begins pulling back and slowly pressing back is as his lips connect to yours. He swallows your moans in a passionate kiss.

It takes just a few thrusts before your over stimulated cunt begins to tremble again, you know it won’t take much more for what you know will be an earth shattering orgasm washes over you.

“Still good" he asks pulling away to capture his breath.

You open your mouth but no sound comes out, just nodding instead but he wasn’t waiting for a response. His eyes no longer full of fire instead passion and adornment.

Fred uses his strength to pin you to the wall. His head lands on your shoulder and he firmly grips the back of your thighs, you know he isn’t going to stop until he fills your sopping pussy with his sticky seed. Your vision goes black and your nails dig into his shoulder and he curses in response.

“I love you baby” he mumbles to the crook of your neck and you can only whimper in response.

Next Chapter

#fredzilla #frederik andersen #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #frederik andersen x reader #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen smut #Fred Andersen Fic #fred andersen x reader #nhl fic #nhl x reader #NHL Smut

55 notes · View notes

ansel-posen · 3 years

Text

After Marion’s death, Ansel discovered he liked to break things.

Bones, specifically.

This discovery hadn’t happened necessarily by chance, or, perhaps it did. All he knew was that one night, not too long after his sister’s death, when Frieda had been unreachable in her own chasm of despair - locked in her room refusing to eat or drink or say anything - when their parents had been on go mode and then so resolutely and decidedly not after Marion’s death had been ruled a homicide, Ansel had gotten pitifully drunk in the way that boys get drunk: where they want to be loud and rowdy and fucking punch things. Ansel felt he had untapped reserves of anger in him - of a rage and grief that threatened to spill over and choke him. He had to do something. So he started drinking.

He remembers getting a text from a number he didn’t know at the time - certainly a number he didn’t have in his phone. All the message had contained was an address somewhere uptown and it didn’t take anything at all for Ansel to say fuck it. Why the hell not? What else did he have to do? What else could he do? He texted their family driver, hopped in the blacked out Escalade upon its arrival, and twenty minutes later, he was looking up at PS 154.

A public school.

“What the fuck,” Ansel slurred, rolling the window down and sticking his head out to get a better look. Definitely a fucking public school. He was meditating on whether he should just tell the driver to take him and the car back home and pick up some tacos on the way when his phone buzzed again.

Enter from the side. Two flights of stairs down. You can’t miss it.

Ansel closed his eyes, deliberating. He was too fucking drunk for this, and yet, his mind was clouded with the surety, the goldenness of youth. Even Marion’s death hadn’t tainted that for Ansel. Nothing could possibly go wrong, he thought, and even if it did, he knew how to defend himself. He knew how to fight. And also, it was just a school. Children went here. He figured he would at least get out of the car, check out the entrance. No harm in that.

Only he didn’t just get out of the car, or check the entrance. He found himself pushing open the door, taking a look around. The lights were on, but dimmed down, giving the walls and tiled floor a distinctly yellow wash of color that, frankly, was not welcoming at all. But he’d come this far, he reasoned to himself, and saw the stairs directly across from him. Why the fuck not. He took them down, two flights, going at a slight jog, skipping over every other step.

When he reached the bottom, it was like quite suddenly, jarringly, the volume turned all the way up, and he heard the shouting, the cheering, coming somewhere to his left two doors down. He followed it, the voices, the thumping bass of hip hop music layered underneath, and when he stopped, pausing, in the doorway, there was a second where he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at, and he swayed on his feet.

“There he is!” A deep voice rang out, only somewhat discernable over the din of shouting and music, and hands pulled him further into the room, which was low ceilinged, washed in blue and green light, with a whiter, brighter light in the center, which was where the majority of the room’s occupants stood in a wide circle.

“What -” Ansel blinked, looking around, and suddenly the hands on him had a face: another boy, slightly taller than him, but… weedier, almost, thinner, with a shock of blond hair on his head and a shadow of stubble on his cheeks and chin. His eyes were steadfastly gray.

“Didn’t think you’d come in,” the boy said, grinning, letting his arm drop from around Ansel’s shoulders. He reached into the pocket of his cut off denim shorts and pulled something out, pressing it into Ansel’s hands, which didn’t quite recognize the exchange of goods at first; he nearly dropped it.

“Tape for your hands,” the boy continued, giving him a serious sort of nod, but the grin remained in place on his mouth. “You’re up next, so I’d get to doing that. And - Prue!” Suddenly a girl with raven black hair and eyes just as dark appeared on his right, startling Ansel so bad he nearly dropped the roll of tape again. He clutched it to his chest, unsure of anything, suddenly, as the girl - Prue - gently tugged it from his hands and gestured for him to hold his hands out for her.

He did, and they were shaking. She laughed, as did the boy.

“Be right back. Another shot, I think?” he said with eyebrows raised before disappearing into another smaller group of people congregating next to what looked like a makeshift bar of some kind in the back of the room.

“The fuck is this place?” Ansel finally asked, as Prue firmly wrapped tape over his knuckles.

“A school,” she said, with the same smirk her predecessor had worn before he’d left them. “Ha ha, very funny,” Ansel retorted, but Prue said nothing else, simply judged her work on his hands with a keen eye before letting him go and nudging him towards the crowd in the center of the room. He turned towards her to say something else, to demand an actual answer, maybe, but she had gone. Of course.

“Here you go.” The boy’s reappearance should have been more shocking to Ansel, but suddenly it very much decidedly wasn’t, and he took what was offered this time without question or complaint: a shot of something that went down burning and smoky in his mouth, but which instantly made him feel surer. Stronger, if that even made sense. It was just some kind of whiskey, he knew that, but since he’d already started off the night drinking, Ansel figured it couldn’t hurt to have a little bit more.

He’d been right and wrong about that.

He remembers the boy slapping him on the back, against his spine between his angel bones, and then the boy had slipped between the people in the circle and stood there, in the empty center of it, the bright light hitting him square in the chest - which, Ansel suddenly realized with a focused clarity was bare - and held his arms out, spinning slowly in a circle. The boy seemed completely at home here, as did the group that circled him. There was the taste of anticipation in the air, as if everyone were holding their breath, waiting for something.

Ansel hadn’t realized at the time that that something had been him.

“We are joined tonight,” the boy began, still revolving slowly, as if he wanted to take the time to meet as many pairs of eyes as he could, “by someone who needs this as much as the rest of us. His sister was murdered, and so far the police don’t have any leads.” There was a murmuring then, and Ansel felt himself momentarily leave his body. What the fuck was going on? “I expect all of you to be kind and gracious hosts to our newest member. You all know how the initiation process goes. Prue?”

And there she was again, the girl who’d wrapped his hands for him, standing next to the boy. She was shorter than him, skin pale as cream. Her hair was tied up and away from her face, which looked out into the crowd. She almost looked bored, though that grin was still set lightly on her lips. Once again, Ansel felt it: anticipation. But for what?

“Ansel, if you could join us, please?”

He hadn’t realized that his feet had begun to propel him forward or that the crowd seemed to just part for him until he was standing next to Prue, looking down at her with an eyebrow quirked in askance. But she said nothing, just gave him what he could have sworn was a fucking wink, and faced forward again.

“Go easy on him, Prue,” the boy said, stepping back into the circle, melting in, and they laughed in response.

Prue did not go easy on him, but looking back, Ansel realized that that had been the point. She’d kicked his ass in the basement of that public school while people cheered her on and drank and danced and yelled and laughed, while the music played on heavily and people lit joints and took shots and mixed drinks and the green and blue and white light colored their skins and hair and inside of their mouths, their teeth. By the time Ansel had even thought to maybe, perhaps, hit her back, the fight had been over, and he was bleeding and he’d never felt more fucking free and alive in his entire life.

He couldn’t wait to fucking go back, which he did, and had been, for the last five years, several nights a week. He’d learned to fight properly, knew who benefited from a little riling up before the first swing landed, learned who he could have a few drinks with before and after and who he needed to stay sober for, learned how hard and how fast to jab and duck and aim and kick. He learned to take a beating, how to take a good beating, how to pay the favor back in kind. Ansel loved the bruises on his knuckles, loved a good blooding, and had eventually initiated his own picks into the group. His muscles grew sleek and smooth, the hollows on his face more pronounced with his defiance. The light came back into his eyes and he learned how to laugh again. He learned how to live.

Of course, he never talked about it.

That was the first and only rule.

#( ansel x intro )#( tw blood )#( open to plots/connections in the nyc plot! )

58 notes · View notes

makeupbychio · 4 years

Text

ily // C.H

pairing: Calum x Reader.

words: 2,3k.

warnings: fluff, a little bit of smut, swearing, spoilers about tv shows (Brooklyn 99 and Glee). English is not my first language.

a/n: I tried to do this genderless so I would love some feedback. Hope you like it, love y'all.

inspired by: a couple of shows that I watched during this quarantine.

It's a lovely and cozy night with Calum, whom cooked your favorite food and watching him during the process so dedicated to make it perfect like five stars restaurants made you looking at him with heart eyes the whole night. The tomato sauce was perfect and the pasta even more. You saw how he followed every single step of the recipe and refused you to help him.

After finishing dinner, you were enjoying red wine -the bottle is almost empty- and talking to him about everything and anything. He set the dining room with vanilla candles to make it more romantic. The warm lights lightly illuminating your faces was so charming.

Deeply inside you know that today it's been 4 months since you started dating, but Calum never brings topics like that or buys something every month and that's totally fine because you neither talk about it. He just surprises you with lovely details like this one in random days, not just when you have to celebrate something.

When he feels like it he does it. Sometimes he caught you off guard like that time he poured like two hundred sunflowers in your house just because, or when he bought you the coolest denim jacket when he was on tour and he said extra things like the jacket was made just for you. Or when he printed the pictures Andy took in a party you threw because he wanted to have them as memories not just in his phone. Also, you find cute when he is so excited to send you his playlists he does every month with his favorite songs -he also made a private playlist for you know, when you need privacy-.

Once finished dinner, you moved to the couch to start your nerd marathon of the shows you watch. He went to find a big blanket since it's cool outside due to the rain that's been going on for two days. He settled next to you and kissed your temple when you put your head on his chest and your hands on his ribcage.

"Come here, baby" Calum said wanting you closer.

"What's our mood today? Glee or Brooklyn 99?" you asked while you were concentrated on the TV screen searching for said shows.

“Both" you said at the same time. You explained how you can't wait to know what happens in the show. You agreed to watch Brooklyn 99 first and then Glee when you were cuddle in bed.

After finishing the Halloween heist chapter you were still laughing at Gina's funny surprises.

"Babe you would be the perfect Gina Linetti" Calum said when he stopped laughing.

"I'm going to take that as a really good compliment, what about you?" you asked him looking up to find his eyes.

"Hmm I don't know" Calum said confused. "We should take an online test to find out" he broke the cuddle position you both had in the couch to go find his computer.

"That's so Amy Santiago" you teased him while he was in another room. Then he came back showing you the electronic device.

He sat straight next to you again and searching for Buzzfeed quizzes related to the show.

"This one sounds pretty cool" he said focused on the screen and pointing the one he chose. While the link load slowly due to his weak WiFi signal you decided you will take the quiz first.

"K'" you said with the computer in your lap reading the questions and choosing the answers fast. "So this says I'm Gina Linetti externally and Amy Santiago internally". You read the caption under the results and it makes sense to you.

"I was right babe, now my turn" he said taking from you the computer. It was funny how he took this so seriously to the point he had his tongue out, a thing he does when he is working. Both of you kinda expected and not his results. "I'm Rosa Diaz externally and Jake Peralta internally".

"That's kinda sexy tho" you said biting your lip to refuse a giggle till you couldn't resist and start making fun of how bad ass but a puddle he is.

He stood up from the couch to lay against the wall with crossed arms looking at you how cute you looked all teasing him and also surprised with the results. "I can be the Jake Peralta to your Amy Santiago" he was now teasing you.

"Challenge accepted" you said before a moment of silence and Calum broke the ice.

"Oh gosh I love you so much" he said with all the emotion and then froze when he realized he said that out loud and not just inside his head. He waited for you to say something and as your surprised wide open eyes, he knew you weren't going to answer what he wanted.

"What?" you asked surprised, not to make him repeated the words but to confirm if it was reality.

"Don't worry, I'm going to take a shower before bed" he said quickly disappearing into the bathroom and took his shirt off. He felt so stupid, he tortured himself for a couple of minutes with thoughts like you don't feel the same way about him and how maybe that scared you and now you were going to run away. 'Stupid Cal' he said to himself before he decided to leave that for later.

In that short amount of minutes, in the other side of the room you were thinking about how he just threw the bomb at you with no warning. You felt bad that you didn't answer immediately, because you love him too but it was confusing how hours ago you were thinking about how he is not like that type of person to celebrate another month of your relationship or cheesy things but clearly he does. You thought how to fix this and your next move.

When you were about to knock the bathroom's door Calum surprised you opening it before your action. He was surprised too to find you inches apart from him.

"Jesus, y/n. Sorry, I thought you were still in the couch" he said when he stopped his rushing thoughts. "Are you okay?" asking if something happened or if you need something.

Calum was already with his shirt off and just with his jeans. You laid your fingers on his beautiful jaw to get him closer and kiss him.

"I love you too, Cal" you said looking up directly to his eyes, fingers still on his jaw and your lips barely touching his. You moved forward a little bit to get you both inside the bathroom so you can close the door. Your moves were slow and that made the intensity filled the room. You know, sexual tension.

You saw his sculpted tan back when he turned around to start the water. You bite your lip at the view. "Is Roy at home already?" you asked innocently him to be sure of something.

He laughed at you being cautious when multiple times before Roy definitely heard you both having sex. "I don't know, but that's cute from you to worry about my roommate's nightmares because of us" he was teasing you.

"Fuck you" you said realizing that the house is huge and that Roy's room is way far from where you were. So you can have an idea about how loud you have to be so he can hears you. Right now you don't care and at the same time hoping that Cal's roommate could be asleep.

You stepped closer to him and he couldn't resist it. It's not like he can't kiss you, he knows that he is allowed to that but he would kill for your kisses. He moved his head to reach your tinted cherry lips and started heating up rapidly the situation. He just cut the makeout session when you took off your shirt, then he removed the rest of his clothes to jump in into the shower. You bit your lip at the view and decided to join him so you took off your jeans too and stepped inside in underwear.

"Baby no! That combo is my fave" Calum said when your clothes got wet immediately because of the hot water. You laughed at his words like if he doesn't has a washing machine or a dryer. You laced your arms around his neck and kissed him under the water. "I've been holding this for a while and a lot of emotions and actions to show you how I feel but not anymore" he said and started to feel like he finally poured out what was stuck on his mind. "I wanted to tell you in a more romantic way than how I did it minutes ago watching Brooklyn 99, just pretend that we are outside under the rain so it could be more romantic like a Hollywood movie from the 50s" Calum said.

He rapidly interlaced both arms in the end of your back to keep your body close to his. You rested your arms around his neck and he went up a little bit with his hands to fight with your soaked bra and then took it off and throw it to the floor crossing the glass door. A cloud of steam was already formed because of the heat in the room.

Now just your panties were left but you were so focused tracing Calum's tattoos with your fingers while he admired you doing it. It gave him chills when you found his chest tattoo.

"I love your tattoo too, honey" he said with his hand moving down to the side of your left thigh where your tattoo is. Perfect time to lift you up and take off the last piece of clothes. Your legs around his waist and he got you holding you with his strong hands placed above your butt.

Calum laughed when you tried to hide your body. It was the first time you took a shower with him. But the only way to hide your body was pressing it harder against his.

From outside the shower your bodies seemed blurry because of the big amount of steam. That marks were erased when Calum lifted you up to hold your body against the wall, your legs were around his waist to give him better access.

Lust immediately filled your mind with the passionate kisses and how good felt when Cal pressed your body against the wall, still lifting you with his strong hands. God that hands and arms drive you crazy with his tattoos and notorious veins. Next he asked you for permission to fill your entrance, always making sure you were alright. You just nodded at him and he did it, your right arm so tight around the back of his neck and left hand holding against the glass leaving your handprint freshly.

You both failed at being quiet but the sound of water and the soundproofing walls gave you advantage. Words couldn't be found, just moans and kisses wherever you had access. Calum still holding you changed to another wall, now one hand holding you and the other pressed against the wall that gave him the balance and to keep pushing inside you.

"Calum, I'm close" you said whispering on his ear. He wanted to make you feel even better so he speed up his pace. The water was hitting Cal's back and was burning him with the marks you were leaving with your nails.

You tilted your head back when you reached your orgasm wanting to have your feet back on the floor and seconds later of friction he reached his edge too.

He pulled off and helped you to for real take a shower and clean the sweaty mess. Now the calm and tiredness hit you both once you left the bathroom ready to -do quite opposite like minutes ago- put comfy clothes and cuddle.

Calum dried your hair and you his. Once you put his baggy hoodie you jumped into the bed. You waited for him who was setting the heat for the house during the night.

While you watched Glee, with his head resting on your chest and stroking his curls, you thought about what he said earlier. Calum always sings the songs that he knows from the show and taps your skin gently at the beat of the music, and it's more than lovely to hear his beautiful voice.

“Babe, what did you mean when you said that you had been holding that for a while?” you asked him when the cast of the show ended the song they were performing. He looked up at you.

“Like a month ago we were watching Brooklyn 99 that chapter when Jake was in danger and Amy felt guilty because she never told him how she felt and that hit me” he spoke with all the honesty. You found that so cute and cheesy from him and it made sense to you because for a while he seemed that he wanted to say something important to you but you never asked or pushed him to do it.

You kissed his forehead and smiled at him. Before you both returned your attention to the show you said, “I love you”.

"I love you too" he said. "I think you would be a perfect Mercedes" he started again teasing you about the characters of the shows you watch together, you are going to get used to this.

You tried to break the closeness of his head in your chest because he knows that you don't have a beautiful talent and voice like Mercedes. "Ha ha very funny. So in that case you would be Sam?" you raised your brows at him because even when you love Sam, he's a player.

"I think we can only resolve this with a quizz" he said smirking at you.

#calum hood #ch #calum #calum hood blurb #calum blurb #ch blurb #calum x reader #calum hood x reader #ch x reader #5sos blurb #5 second of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer blurb #calum hood imagine #calum hood fic #calum hood fluff

164 notes · View notes

pendragonsandbuckleys · 3 years

Text

Oh it felt so easy then.

My @malexsanta fic for @manesguerin, Merry Christmas Sarah!! ✨

This is the first time I’ve ever been given a prompt so I really hope I’ve done it justice. I’ve gone with the prompt ‘lost decade’ and as you may notice by the length of it, it kind of got away from me… but I really hope you like it!

[Also on AO3]

Summary: Ten years of letters filed away with such love and care into a decade old shoebox and what was it all for?

A look at the lost decade through Michael’s eyes.

Word Count: 21,499

❄️👽🎄💌

Ten years was a long time.

Five hundred and twenty-one weeks to be filled with laughter and tears, friends and family, old secrets and new opportunities.

Three thousand, six hundred and fifty days to get over a stupid high school crush that was never going to last.

Michael closed the door behind him, furious at the sudden emotions raging inside him. He hadn’t heard from Alex in a long time, hadn’t see him in even longer. So why was his heart racing at the mere sight of the man he once loved.

Glancing at the many whiteboards and notepads filled with scientific scribble and spaceship blueprints reminded Michael that there was so much more than just the thin wall of the airstream keeping them apart. They’d been kidding themselves to even try to make it work. They were two different people with two different lives.

His eyes wandered to the other end of the trailer. He should have thrown out the box long ago, burnt it even.

He had been so proud of the fact that he hadn’t looked inside in months, hadn’t given in to the temptation to see Alex’s delicate penmanship and carefully chosen words. He had most of the letters committed to memory, but re-reading them after a difficult day used to help calm the chaos in his mind.

It had been a long time since he’d forced himself to forget about the box and all it contained but one look at Alex and all the feelings he’d spent months suppressing had come flooding back. The feelings of hope and happiness. Of love.

He slowly walked towards the closet and crouched down to rummage through his belongings. There were a few things piled inside but right at the bottom was what he wanted.

A simple shoebox. The writing on the front was long worn away and the lid was practically falling apart but the box itself wasn’t important. He lifted the lid and a stale scent of roses immediately filled the air. His hand brushed the dried petals to the side before hesitating above the first envelope.

Ten years of letters filed away with such love and care into a decade old shoebox and what was it all for?

September 2008

It started with the hubcaps.

Well, really, it all started seventy years ago when one innocent eyeliner wearing, music loving boy’s ancestors began a lifelong mission to destroy Michael’s family.

But those goddamn hubcaps. I mean, if he was going to steal anything from Kyle Valenti’s car it could have been something useful. His truck needed a new battery after all.

The thrill of the theft hadn’t quite overpowered the pain in his heart and a night in a cell, alone with his thoughts, definitely hadn’t helped the way he thought it would.

Ever since Alex had told him that he was enlisting, Michael had been acting weird around him. Getting into more and more fights, drinking and smoking and doing all he could to cause trouble, regardless of how much he could see it was hurting Alex.

And every time Alex begged him to get it together, Michael was reminded of the fact that the only person he had ever had feelings for would soon be leaving him. That Alex was choosing to leave him to follow in his father’s footsteps.

So he pushed Alex away. He got himself arrested all for the sake of self preservation which should have felt like a win but really all he had done was waste the last day he could have had with Alex.

It had been a few weeks since Alex had left for Texas for Basic Training and Michael hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Though he couldn’t blame him. Michael had made it very clear that their short lived relationship was over.

And maybe that’s really all it was meant to be. Maybe it was just some summer fling that meant nothing in the long run. Simply a way for two broken people to just breathe for five seconds.

And maybe it was stupid for him to believe it could have been anything more.

As he stared up at the starry night sky from the back of his truck he felt his phone vibrate inside his trouser pocket.

Another text from Isobel no doubt.

She had been trying to get in touch with him all evening. All week in fact. And he couldn’t be bothered to deal with it today.

After graduation she had been adamant that Michael wasn’t going to drift away from them. Not seeing each other just because they were no longer forced to share a classroom was not an option.

So she had taken to texting him. A lot. Mainly mundane things, little updates about her life like a job interview she’d managed to secure or a new boy she was possibly seeing. She’d always try to ask about what he was up to or encourage him to come over for dinner, but that was usually his cue to stop replying. A dead battery or no credit was his go to excuse but there’s no way she really believed him.

He just couldn’t face seeing her or Max, not yet. The horror of Rosa, Kate and Jasmine’s deaths and their decision to cover it up was still so fresh in his mind and any opportunity to not remember it was preferable.

It was strange, thinking about it. That night was one of the worst nights of his life for two wildly different reasons.

A very personal, homophobic attack that left his hand crushed beyond repair and a triple murder that no one would ever know the real truth about. Not even the person responsible.

And while he just wanted to take his mind off the people involved in one of these for a little while, he never wanted to forget the person involved in the other.

He had no idea if he would ever see Alex again, but just hoped that he was okay. That he was happy. That he was safe.

And that would have to be good enough for now.

November 2008

Michael’s truck jolted to a stop in the Wild Pony parking lot.

It was earlier than he’d usually be here but the day drinking was a new thing he was trying.

He’d been having regrets lately about not taking up the UNM scholarship. He was fully aware that he was more than smart enough to continue with his studies and yeah maybe the courses would be far more mundane than he’d like, but at least he could do something worthy with this life. But then every time he considered re-thinking his decision, his hopes were brought crashing back down to earth with the reminder of why he didn’t go to university in the first place.

He had slowly begun letting Max and Isobel back into his life, a coffee date here and a shopping trip there, but sometimes all the friendly conversations in the world couldn’t stop his desire to just be numb every now and then.

The excessive alcohol consumption was a recent development, but hey, a town drunk has to start at some point, right?

There was a clerk at a gas station a few miles away that had no problems turning a blind eye to his clean shaven baby face and he’d managed to get a fake ID for the more difficult purchases. Such as the Wild Pony. A typical Roswell bar without the added green alien decor. Every local knew the Wild Pony and unfortunately the Wild Pony knew him - or more importantly, his age.

Maybe he’d get lucky today and it would be a new bar tender but if not, then he’d just slip some acetone into a soft drink. That would have to do the trick for now.

It was mid afternoon so there was a decent amount of people inside, but no sign of the rowdy drunks that tended to emerge after dark. The only person working behind the bar was currently wiping down the surfaces as a pair of customers walked away with their drinks.

Michael swaggered confidently past the men at the pool table and the group of girls in the booth that he vaguely recognised from school and perched on one of the stools at the bar. “I’ll have whatever’s cheapest.”

“You got ID?” The bar tender gave him a look that just screamed I don’t have time for your bullshit, but Michael was nothing if not persistent. She walked over, arms folded neatly across her chest, cloth still gripped in one hand, and came to a stop in front of him.

The badge pinned to her denim jacket spelled out her name in thick capital letters but Michael didn’t need to read it. Everyone knew who Maria Deluca was. With her beautiful curls and disarming smile, she was a friend to almost everyone at New Roswell High.

And though she was one of Alex’s oldest friends, Michael had barely said two words to her during their many years walking the same school halls but right now she was his best chance at scoring a drink.

“C’mon Deluca, we don’t have to bother with all that.” He mustered up as much charm as he could manage as he leant forward on the bar but Maria wasn’t swayed, her face set in a clear display of annoyance.

“I told you last time, I’m not getting fired just to help fuel these little angsty life choices you’ve been making recently.”

“Your mom’s not gonna fire you for helping a friend.”

“Oh wow,” Her eyes widened, feigning surprise, “Sorry I wasn’t aware we’d become friends.”

“Well,” Michael shrugged, “Every time I come in, it’s like you’re here waiting for me, so I just thought…”

“I’m stuck this side of the bar Guerin. I have no choice but to put up with whatever you think is going on right now.”

Michael sniggered as he raised an eyebrow. The chances of him getting drunk anytime soon were dwindling by the second but he was enjoying the banter nonetheless.

“One day. One day I’ll get you to admit how much you love seeing me.”

Maria rolled her eyes as she flipped the cloth over one shoulder. “I am glad you’re here actually.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It means I don’t have to spend my time trying to track you down.” She rummaged through a bag sitting behind the bar before pulling out an envelope. “Someone clearly knows you well.”

Michael took it from her with a frown. One quick glance at the front confirmed that it was indeed labelled to him, only with the Wild Pony’s address neatly scripted underneath his name.

Who would be sending him a letter? Who even sent letters anymore?

He looked up to ask Maria when it had arrived but she’d already made her way over to the customers at the other end of the bar.

Without hesitation he carefully ripped it open and pulled out the piece of paper inside. Impatient as ever, his eyes immediately darted to the end of the page to see who it was from and he almost fell off the chair at the name signed at the bottom.

It had been four months since he’d seen Alex. Four month since he’d heard his beautiful voice or seen his perfect face. And yet here, in his hands, was a letter from the one person he honestly thought he’d never hear from again.

Someone on a nearby table cheered loudly and Michael was suddenly reminded of where he was. It didn’t feel right, reading Alex’s first words to him in months under the harsh neon lights of the bar so without sparing a second glance at Maria, he practically sprinted all the way to the parking lot, yanking the door open as soon as he reached his truck.

Taking a deep breath, he unfolded the paper and began reading.

Dear Michael,

I’ve debated writing this letter for a while now, mainly because of how we left things. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to keep in contact but I’ve been missing some people back in Roswell and I think I just needed to get a few things out of my head. I might not even send this letter, but if you’re reading this then I guess it means my sentimentality won out.

I’ve been thinking about how peaceful the desert is back home. How quiet it would be when we’d park the truck in the middle of nowhere and just lie under the sun for hours. It’s surprising the things you notice yourself missing when you haven’t been somewhere in a while.

There’s so many people here it feels like school all over again. I tried to distance myself from everyone in some last act of defiance, but I’ve ended up making a few friends. Honestly I think it would be impossible to get through this alone.

I’ve finished basic training now. It was harder than I thought it was going to be but I got through it and I’m onto the next phase. We get to choose the specialism ourselves so at least that’s a positive and who knows, maybe I’ll be quite good at it.

I’m going to be here for a least a few months to complete my training before I find out where I’m being assigned so I’ve included my address incase you want to write back.

Whatever it is that you decided to do with your life, I hope you’re okay.

From,

Alex.

P.S. I’m sorry for sending this to the Wild Pony, I hope Maria got it to you okay. I would have addressed it to ‘Michael Guerin’s Truck’, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t quite reach you.

Michael re-read the letter another three times before he could bear to take his eyes off the page.

Alex had written to him. Amongst all the training and hard work and confusion over how they’d parted, Alex had taken the time to sit down and write to him.

It was brief and simple and Michael couldn’t stop smiling.

He fumbled trying to get his keys in the ignition before putting the truck in gear, already planning his reply, all desire to get drunk suddenly forgotten.

February 2009

“I don’t pay you to sit around doodling.” Sanders called over gruffly from under the hood of the car he was working on.

“I’ve already finished with Campbell’s jeep.” Michael replied distractedly as he continued to scribble in the notepad.

The repair had needed longer than he had expected so he was taking what he deemed as a well earned break. If the old man had a problem with it then he could go ahead and find a better mechanic. Michael didn’t earn nearly enough to put up with his attitude anyway.

Sitting under the barely put together shelter that Sanders had the audacity to call his workshop, Michael started to scrawl a reply to Alex. Letter number four had arrived just under a week ago and he had yet to come up with a response.

Again addressed to the Wild Pony, Alex had talked about the latest shenanigans of his fellow airmen and how he’d been missing his guitar lately. He never went into detail about the work he was doing but he always made sure to mention that it was going well. Michael could practically visualise him picking out the words very carefully to make sure it didn’t sound like he was boasting, but sometimes it made writing a reply hard.

He was so pleased for Alex. Every letter he received had a more and more happier tone to it and honestly, he was glad that Alex was finding his place in the Air Force. He will always hate that he signed up, but considering he was going to be a part of it for a long time, Michael was just relieved that he had settled in.

It did mean, however, that his life felt very boring in comparison. What was he supposed to say? Hey Alex, I fixed another car today. I’ll probably be hanging out with Isobel later to spend hours listening to her moan about something before going to sleep in my truck and doing it all again tomorrow.

He was just about to jot something down when something small and hard bounced off his forehead.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Michael rubbed his head and glared at the man.

“Are you listening to me?” Sanders waved the wrench in his hand as he tried to punctuate his point.

“Obviously.”

“What did I say?”

“…words?” Michael replied innocently, throwing his hands up in defeat when Sanders looked ready to throw something else. “Alright, alright sorry, what did you want?”

“The Johnson's SUV needs its engine looking at and when you’re done with that you can change the brake pads on that pickup that came in this morning.”

“On it.” Michael gave a halfhearted salute as he grabbed the closest toolbox and headed out into the sun.

He wasn’t really in the mood to be working in the heat today but at least this way the vehicles were far enough away from Sanders that he wouldn’t have any distractions from his real task.

He’d been grabbing odd shifts at the junkyard since he was fourteen, but last month he’d finally persuaded Sanders to hire him properly. If he was to have any hope of moving out of his truck, he needed to start earning some proper money doing something he was half decent at.

He’d been trying to find a way to work this news into his letter but he couldn’t quite find the words. He didn’t want to admit to himself that it was because he was ashamed, but that’s exactly what it was. Alex was at the start of a prestigious career that would take him across the world, learning new skills and earning decent money.

Michael was a mechanic. Barely.

And he knew that Alex wouldn’t care about the difference in their jobs, he’d just be happy that Michael was a step above wasting his life. It was just so hard to fit everything he really wanted to say into one letter.

Maybe he was struggling so much with the words because he’d much rather say it in person. He hadn’t seen Alex in forever and he missed the simple act of just being with him. Of sitting in the back of the truck, shoulders touching and hands intertwined. The amount of serotonin a short handwritten note could produce was ridiculous but it in no way replaced the feel of having the real thing in front of him.

Though if Alex was feeling anything near the way he was, then maybe it didn’t matter what he wrote. The mere fact that he had replied would hopefully be enough.

April 2009

Isobel looked at him disapprovingly, switching her many bags from one hand to the other. “Really Michael? Just because you live in the desert doesn’t mean you need to actually start dressing like a cowboy.”

A shopping trip with Isobel wasn’t Michael’s first choice for a Saturday afternoon, but he’d had no good excuse to refuse as she practically dragged him to the mall.

For someone who liked to try on almost everything in a single store, Isobel had chosen what she wanted to buy pretty quickly. Now it was Michael’s turn but he honestly wasn’t sure what she expected of him. He’d been living in the same clothes for years now, he didn’t know how to do the whole shopping spree thing.

“You’re the one who wanted to buy me new clothes.”

“Yeah, because I wanted to make you look cool. Not like a nineteen year old version of the Lone Ranger.”

Michael looked in the mirror again. The black cowboy hat resting atop his head was working well with the rancher aesthetic he had going on. It hid his curls and made him look slightly older, giving him more of an edge than his baseball cap could usually muster.

It just felt right.

Growing up, he’d never had the chance to really figure out his own identity besides angry, rebellious orphan and going full-on cowboy felt like a good place to start.

Besides, he looked damn good.

“You’ve already chosen the rest of my wardrobe for me Isobel. You can’t let me make one big boy decision for myself?” Michael gave her a pointed looked as he took the hat off and ran a hand through his hair.

“Fine. Just don’t show Max, he’s already started a godawful belt buckle collection, I don’t want him getting any ideas.” She happily snatched it out of his hand and strutted elegantly to the till.

He had missed these moments with Isobel. The familial feeling of her bossing him around.

No one ever talked about how easy it was to drift apart from people after high school, how the close bonds you thought you’d formed over the lunch table could so quickly disappear once you’re all thrown into the real world.

But the three of them were different. Michael, Max and Isobel, the three children found wandering the desert all those years ago. He hadn’t been able to rid himself of them then and turns out he still couldn’t now. Despite his best efforts to distance himself, they had managed to completely worm their way back into his life over the past few months and honestly he was better off for it.

Today wasn’t the first weekend outing he’d endured and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, but his heart felt a little lighter from having spent it in good company. With the bags heavy in their hands, they grabbed some food at a nearby burger place before calling it a day. He dropped Isobel home and drove to his usual night-time parking spot.

Climbing effortlessly onto the back of the truck, he looked inside the singular bag Isobel had gifted him. He’d come away with a new pair of boots, a few t-shirts and the cowboy hat. Nowhere near enough in Isobel’s opinion but after the reminder that he didn’t exactly have a closet right now she had conceded.

He shoved the bag into the corner and leant forward to pulled out the letter that had been burning a hole in his back pocket all day. He grimaced at the sight of it, with its crease down the middle and its crumpled edges. Isobel had ambushed him coming out of the Wild Pony before he’d had a chance to read it - or put it away - which meant it had been hidden in the only place available at the time.

As much as he loved her, he wasn’t quite ready to share it with her yet.

He unrolled his blanket and threw it around his shoulders, settling back against the truck before opening the envelope. He’d finally told Alex about the junkyard in his last letter and he’d been waiting to hear back for a few weeks now.

Dear Michael,

That’s amazing news about the job! You really are the best mechanic in the whole of Roswell so Sanders is lucky to have you.

You shouldn’t put yourself down though. You used to always be fixing things when I was back home (annoyingly effortlessly from what I remember) so to get paid for doing something you enjoy is kind of the dream, right?

Plus I’m sure the drivers of Roswell will be very grateful to have someone with two eyes checking their brakes are working correctly. I mean, should Sanders even be fixing cars anymore? I swear he can’t even see three inches in front of his face!

Speaking of work, I was thinking about the Emporium yesterday. Have you been inside recently? I wonder if they ever noticed the alien with its head on backwards. Still definitely your fault by the way.

I kind of miss that uniform too, even the visor. I have to wear my uniform all the time now and it’s nowhere near as comfortable. I feel like it’s becoming a part of me, like I’m never going to be able to go home after a long day and forget about everything for a while, it’s just always going to be there.

I’m sure I’ll get used it.

I think we’re being moved in a couple of weeks so I’ll give you my new address when that happens. But for now, I hope you’re okay.

Speak to you soon,

Alex.

Michael leant his head back and watched as the sun slowly began to set behind the trees.

Alex always knew how to make him feel a million different emotions at once. He felt an unfamiliar sense of pride at the praise Alex had offered but reading the boy’s words about his own work made Michael long to have him back with him, away from all the regimented days and looming risk of danger.

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning though, thinking back to the alien statue standing in the corner of the crop circle exhibit. That had been a good day. And yeah, it was definitely his fault.

He was about to put this latest letter away with the rest when an idea came to him. He grabbed the bag that Isobel had lovingly handed over and pulled out the shoebox that had been squeezed inside amongst the various clothes.

He ran his nail across the tape keeping the box sealed, breaking it easily in a single movement, and took off the lid.

He pulled out the new boots, followed by the scrunched up tissue paper intended to keep them somewhat preserved, until he was left with an empty box. It was a decent size, not too big that it would be a pain to store under the passenger seat and not too small that he would run out of space anytime soon.

He’d been keeping the letters in his glove compartment for now but it didn’t quite feel safe enough for something so precious. But this shoebox was perfect.

He placed the letter inside before heading to the front of the truck and retrieving the rest, slotting them in neatly and closing the lid to keep them secure.

Tonight he’d sleep thinking about the last day he and Alex had shared in the UFO Emporium and as soon as the sun was up, he’d write his reply.

July 2009

Dear Alex,

You’ll never guess what happened today.

I’ve been working every shift Sanders will give me just to save up some cash and like some crazy act of luck an old airstream got dumped at the junkyard last week. It took some convincing but Sanders actually let me buy it off him!

It’s small and pretty run down but I figured it could be a fun project. I am very good with my hands, as you know.

It’s not as glamorous as a house or anything like that, but at least this way I can move out of my truck and into a place with an actual sink. Plus, I reckon I’m the smart one here. No rent to pay? Less space to clean? It’s perfect.

Do you think you’ll be able to visit Roswell soon? You’re probably working hard, getting your geek on and saving the world, but it’s been a while. A year actually, next month.

No pressure, but I look forward to the day I get to officially invite you inside my new place.

Stay safe out there.

Michael

Michael careful wrote his new address on the back, then sealed the envelope and left it by the door as a reminder to post the next time he was in town.

He hadn’t even started to unpack yet, his first priority being to share his big news. He figured that’s what he would have wanted to do if Alex was in Roswell anyway.

The airstream had been dumped a few days ago and though Michael wasn’t aware how much Sanders had paid the guy for it, he was pretty sure it must have cost more for Sanders than it had for Michael. Which was strange.

Since spending almost every day with Sanders, they had definitely worked up some form of workplace bond to some extent. Although some days, it was a wonder Michael could be bothered to engage in the conversations that were mainly a mix of complaints or disinterested grunts.

He must be rubbing off on the old man though because he had given away the airstream at a bargain.

As soon as he’d agreed it with Old Man Simmons that he could park it at Foster Ranch - along with the offer of earning his keep by working the land - he had brought all of his belongings inside and now the next task was to find a place for everything. There may not be much in the three boxes currently sitting on the bed, but they were his. They were the few things that he had been able to actually buy for himself over the past few years and really call his own.

And now that he had a home to put them in, he wanted to do it perfectly.

It felt bizarre to think about. His home. A place he could finally call his own. A place to cook and wash and sleep, safe from the cold and desert dust. The group homes and fosters parents of the past had never let him decorate his own space but now he had the opportunity to make everything his own.

And he knew exactly where to start. The clothes would go in the closet and the limited toiletries would be given their place in the bathroom. That was all obvious, another decision made for him.

But something he could choose for himself?

He picked up the shoebox and peaked inside. It had gained a few more letters since he had started filling it and they were all piled neatly in order.

Looking around, there were several places it could sit.

On the desk would make it the first thing he’d see coming home. But would therefore be the first thing Isobel and Max would go snooping through when they visited.

The drawers next to the closet would keep it safe but they were just too small for the box.

The closet itself felt too impersonal. Like he was hiding it away from himself as well as everyone else.

His eyes were drawn to the bed - his mind instantly jumping to the thought of him and Alex sharing it together - and then to the overhead compartment above it.

Lifting the latch, it popped open with a click and when Michael slid the box in, it fit perfectly. Safe, sealed and close to him where he would sleep.

Feeling happy about the very important decision, he closed the compartment.

Now, onto the rest.

November 2009

It had been a very quiet morning.

Sanders was away for a few days and he’d banned Michael from working in the junkyard without supervision after a recent accident that had pissed him off. He hadn’t meant for the hammer to hit the window of the Davis’ land rover, honest. He’d been aiming for the toolbox.

He’d get the old man to change his mind soon enough, but in the meantime what better place to spend the morning than in bed.

The recently bought sheets were soft against his bare chest as he stared up at the ceiling. The box was still tucked away in the cupboard above him, taken out frequently with every new visit from the mailman. It’s not like anyone else ever sent him post.

Alex had been getting very sappy in his letters recently, reminiscing about the previous summer. Though compared to the past year of writing, the days they had actually spent in each other’s company were few and far between.

It was practically the end of the school year when Michael had borrowed Alex’s guitar from the music room. A decision which he would never regret. And though they had barely spoken during their many years at the same school, when Alex had offered him shelter it hadn’t really mattered. They had clicked so instantly that the few months that they did manage to share felt like they spanned an eternity.

A lot of bad things happened that summer, but he’d do anything to go back just to relieve those good days again.

A knock at the door interrupted his daydream. He sat up, confused, and tried to peak through the newspaper taped to the window. He wasn’t expecting visitors and he couldn’t quite make out enough of the shape to work out who it was.

He rolled sleepily out of bed and grabbed yesterday’s pants, hopping the short distance to the door as he tried to yank them up.

Pushing the door open revealed a sight that had Michael’s breath catching in his throat.

The boy in front of him looked different. Gone was the dark eyeliner that used to frame his eyes and the nail varnish that would stand out against his skin. No more septum piercing or earring, and the chain that Michael would play with as they kissed was missing from his neck.

His hair was much shorter and so not him.

But he was here.

Alex was here. Standing in front of him. And Michael hadn’t said anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything? It was like his brain had short-circuited at the mere sight of the one person he’d been longing to see.

“Hi.” Alex nervously broke the silence, playing with the zip of his hoodie between his thumb and forefinger. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up like this.”

Mind? Did Alex really just ask that? He’d been dreaming of this moment for months now.

He also didn’t really know how to put that into words in his current state of shock, so he did the next best thing. He stepped down onto the dry ground and immediately pulled Alex into his arms.

Alex took all of a second to reciprocate the hug as he melted against Michael’s chest.

It was cold outside, winter drawing to its peak and showing its first signs of snow, but being in Alex’s arms was the warmest he had felt in a while.

“You’re here.” Michael mumbled against Alex’s shoulder and he felt him chuckle.

“Well, I have a few days leave and I was promised an invite.” Alex replied softly.

Oh god. This was it, the official house warming personally tailored to Alex. And everything was a mess. Turns out getting a new place doesn’t stop old habits from taking hold and barely a week after he moved in there was paperwork all over the desk and clothes strewn across the bathroom floor. It hadn’t exactly gotten better since then.

Michael reluctantly broke the hug, bringing his hands down to gently link with Alex’s.

“It’s a bit of a mess.” He muttered playfully causing Alex to giggle, the enormity of the moment getting too much for him.

“I don’t mind.”

Nodding to himself, Michael turned and led Alex into the airstream, waiting for the boy to close the door behind him before he spoke. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s…” Alex hesitated, glancing around at the cluttered desk and the half opened drawers and Michael felt so embarrassed. It looked so much worse than he remembered it being before he opened the door two minutes ago.

“I know it’s not much.” He offered grudgingly.

“No it’s…very you.” Alex said, smiling widely as he stepped closer. “I really like it.”

Really? Michael was going to ask. But it only took one look to get lost in Alex’s eyes and all words were suddenly forgotten.

Alex took another step to close the gap between them and slowly leant forward, his eyes not leaving Michael’s lips. Talking could come later, this is what they had really been missing.

It’s their smiles that touched first, excitement rushing through them making them giddy. But then as Michael’s lips parted and Alex leaned closer, it was as though time stood still. They had been waiting for this moment, longing for it for months.

Michael’s stomach fluttered at the familiar feeling of Alex’s hair under his fingertips, the soft lips against his own. He could practically feel Alex reflecting back at him every feeling of want and desperation that had occurred with every new letter and he had to half open his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

However long Alex was home for, Michael planned to make the most of every single second.

May 2010

Michael took another swig of beer as he watched the last rays of light disappear beyond the horizon. He had driven out into the desert hours ago with the strong desire to get so blackout drunk he wouldn’t be able to remember his own name.

He couldn’t do it at the Wild Pony with its many prying eyes and the airstream just felt too small tonight. So instead, he had parked the truck at a spot that he and Alex used to frequent when they had wanted to be alone.

Alex had taken longer than usual to reply, but Michael understood - between the two of them, Alex’s duty to Uncle Sam would have to take precedence. It just made the warmth that each letter provided that much stronger.

But today’s letter was different and all the wrong feelings had taken root. Fear, sadness, loss. They were swirling around his mind and sitting on his chest and no amount of alcohol seemed to banish them.

Because for the first time since they had begun writing, the return address on the envelope had not read United States, but Afghanistan.

Michael had barely registered Alex’s words during the first read through with his imagination going into overdrive, but taking a deep breath he had sat on the bed and forced himself to focus.

I can’t really give you any details, Alex had said.

I’ll be okay, he was brave enough to promise.

But he couldn’t promise that. Not really. Michael had done his research over the past two years, frantically gathering every measly scrap of information that the search engine could offer. He had seen the number of deaths to come out of every combat zone, read the stories of those whose lives would never be the same again and had the nightmares of every worst possible outcome.

The Air Force doesn’t deploy as long as the Army, but every second that Alex was on war-torn soil increased the risk of him not making it home. It was going to happen at some point, Alex’s first overseas deployment. Michael had just really been hoping for Spain or Turkey. Not this.

He had convinced himself that he would be prepared. That he would be rational and calm and wouldn’t jump to conclusions or freak out. Clearly he was better at lying to himself than he realised.

He didn’t know why he was feeling so sorry for himself. He wasn’t the one being sent halfway across the world to dutifully serve his country. No, Michael was stuck at home, waiting for the outcome.

It was dark now, his mini camping lantern emitting the only glow of light, but he had plenty of beers to keep him going through the night. He’d reply tomorrow - or the day after once his head had cleared. But for now he just wanted to forget everything and let the world fall away.

And maybe if he was inebriated enough it would keep the nightmares at bay.

August 2010

To anyone who asked, Michael was a stoic twenty year old who didn’t engage in something so pathetic as having emotions.

But to himself, he would reluctantly have to admit they often played a part in many of his life choices.

Like the big choices that had been fuelled by pain and confusion, standing in the middle of the desert with his two remaining family members standing by. Or the smaller choices made in the dead of night encouraged by a sappy romantic notion he had witnessed in one of Isobel’s romcoms.

Small, but no less important.

Like the decision to fill a shoebox with dried petals to help rid it of the musty smell that often accompanied any container that had been closed for too long.

He dedicated an entire day to researching flowers, finding out how to preserve them and which ones gave off the best scent.

Hydrangeas were a strong contender. Their pastel hues of purple and blue would add a nice drop of colour to the box and they were one of the easiest flowers to preserve. But they would last less than a year and Michael didn’t want to run the risk of the petals flaking into a hundred pieces and ruining the box.

Chrysanthemums were next on the list. The drying method seemed simple enough and though the petals were fairly small, they came in a whole host of vibrant colours. They were also the official flower for mother’s day in Australia and though the country itself meant nothing to him, it would give the petals a bittersweet double meaning. A way of keeping two separate loves alive alongside each other. Everything about them seemed perfect and several nearby florists even had them in stock ready for him to collect that day but when he stumbled upon a website stating that they also symbolised death they were instantly scratched off the list.

Pansies or larkspurs or little cuttings of lavender were all possibilities but they just didn’t feel right.

He didn’t want to become a stereotypical old romantic but his mind kept wandering to the roses. The elegant petals would sit nicely atop the letters and the sweet, fresh scent would be a pleasant addition to the box. Their frequent association with all things love and romance fell alongside the lesser known connotation of secrecy and confidentiality, words that all seemed to sum up the box completely.

The drying process would take time but it would be time well spent. Not to mention the intricate symbolism linked with each soft colour would add an extra touch to the box.

Red was a given with its instant connection to love.

Pink meant grace and gratitude and though he most certainly lacked one, he was definitely filled with the other. Every letter that arrived at his door was further proof that Alex was still alive and as long as they kept coming he would be eternally grateful.

Oranges roses were the symbol of passion and enthusiasm and while you could definitely use both of those words in relation to the last time he had seen Alex, the letters felt more innocent than that.

That didn’t necessarily mean that white roses were the way to go though, with their implication of innocence and purity. Not even he could kid himself that much.

With his mind made up, he grabbed his hat and headed out to engage in a spot of criminal activity.

Was it technically a crime though to cut someone else’s flowers? I mean how could Mrs Wilson really own her rose bushes when they belonged to Mother Nature first.

He wouldn’t have even thought about taking someone else’s, but the internet had very clearly specified that home grown roses were much better than shop bought flowers and who was he to argue with that?

It was mid-morning on a Wednesday so no one was around to see him attack the hedge with some clippers. It would have been a lot easier to literally be a thief in the night, but roses were best picked before the midday sun had a chance to warm their delicate petals. Any later in the day and they would lose their fragrance, so daylight robbery was the way to go.

He snipped at the branches, grumbling as his fingers caught the sharp thorns protruding from the stems, and once he had retrieved the optimum amount of red and pink flowers he headed back to the airstream to begin the lengthy drying process.

It would take a few days but the outcome would be worth it.

February 2011

The sight of one man should not leave Michael freezing in his tracks. He was an alien for God's sake. A superior species with actual powers.

Who the hell was Jesse Manes compared to that? An old man with a limited wardrobe and receding hairline? A divorced father of four kids who hated him? A nameless soldier overshadowed by his peers?

No, Jesse Manes was a respected member of the community, known and loved by all. A loyal airman with several commendations under his belt. An intimidating man prepared to brutally disfigure the hand of a child and easily get away with it.

Why Alex would choose to follow in his footsteps he would never understand.

Michael hadn’t seen Alex’s father since the night in the toolshed. The night he ruined what, up until that point, had been a perfect day. And he destroyed so much more than Michael’s hand that night. He destroyed the memory of his and Alex’s first time together, the possibility of him using a guitar to quiet the world around him, the opportunity for a roof over his head.

He had destroyed the chance for Michael to heal and move on and gain some faith back in humanity.

And three years later, here he was across the street from Michael’s truck, sitting at the window of the Crashdown, keeping Michael frozen to his seat.

He was supposed to be meeting Max for lunch in ten minutes, but there was no way he could go inside now.

Maybe Alex’s father wouldn’t even remember him. He had only seen him one time, several years ago. He couldn’t possibly have committed Michael’s face to memory in the three minutes they had shared a space together. But then again, Michael couldn’t imagine he went around hitting kids with hammers all that often so maybe it had been a memorable night for him.

Whether it had had impact on Jesse Manes or not, Michael still remembered it vividly.

The way the door slammed open and Alex flinched away from his touch. The quiver in Alex’s voice as Manes picked up the hammer. The sight of Alex whimpering as his father’s hand squeezed around his throat. The pain filled shout Michael could barely make out over the sound of his own bones cracking.

In shock and in agony, he vaguely recalls being thrown out of the shed and staggering to his truck, but admittedly that part was still blurry.

To this day though, he still didn’t know what happened to Alex once he’d gone. They had never really talked about that night, not properly at least. Alex had been very eager to check how his hand was healing or offer to take him to a doctor, but always reluctant to discuss what he’d endured.

In all honesty, Michael still didn’t know if Jesse had done anything to Alex but it was always his suspicion. He’d recognised the fury in the older man’s eyes to know that that anger needed an outlet and Michael’s hand probably hadn’t been enough.

His hand ached suddenly at the memory and he clenched it hard in a useless attempt to make it stop. It had been hurting a lot lately, seizing up and making it impossible to do anything.

Max had offered to heal it a number of times but he still refused. He’d tell himself that it was because of Alex. How would he explain a perfectly healed hand to the guy who had witnessed the brutality it had suffered?

But if he ever decided to admit the truth to himself, he’d accept that really it was all for self preservation. A constant reminder moulded under his skin of what humans were really like. A way of reminding him not to get too close to people, not to let them into his life.

Clearly, Alex was the exception to this rule and Michael honestly couldn’t explain why. Right from the start their connection had just been something else. Something unexplainable.

Feeling the panic starting to bubble in his chest, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He could text Max. The I’m held up at the junkyard excuse would keep him busy long enough for the police officer’s lunch break to end. He could dodge the bullet completely that way and just make it up to him tomorrow.

Or would that be like letting Jesse Manes win? What would he even be winning? There was no way that man remembered who Michael was.

Looking over to the window again, he watched as Alex’s father handed something to the waitress.

Was he really going to let his past trauma dictate where he could have lunch?

At the moment? Yes.

Sliding his phone out of his front pocket, he unlocked it quickly and opened the messenger app, his thumb hovering over Max’s name but then he had an idea.

He clicked on the little notepad icon and began to type.

Alex’s latest letter arrived last week and was still awaiting a reply and what better time to write one than when you’re freaking out slightly at the sight of a man who had once attacked you.

He barely noticed the autocorrect working hard to fix his many mistakes, he just needed to get the words out.

He didn’t mention Jesse, deciding to steer clear of the man entirely and focus on the positives instead. Alex was free from his father’s harsh rules and strict parenting for the time being so there was no point wasting his words on a man he most likely didn’t want to hear about.

It was overly sentimental and he’d probably edit it massively before writing it up, but for now he impulsively typed up everything he wanted to say. Everything he would say if Alex was sitting next to him right now.

Dear Alex,

Glad to see that you’re stateside again, it stressed me out every day you were overseas.

I’m really happy that you’ve settled in with the work you’re doing and I’ve almost come to terms with the fact that your job is going to be dangerous at times, but that still doesn’t stop me worrying about it. And even after all this time you’ve been away, it’s still weird to not have you here.

Everything has been reminding me of you recently, which is both beautiful and horrible because at least you’re here when you’re not here. But you’re not here and I really wish you were. Like when a song by that band you like comes on the radio, or if I walk past the Emporium, or I order a milkshake at the Crashdown or even just seeing Maria at the Wild Pony.

Max was telling me the other day about this kid who reported his guitar stolen and I couldn’t help but think back to when I stole yours. Well, I say stole, I promise I really was just borrowing it. I knew it was yours though and part of me definitely wanted you to find out that I had taken it, anything to get you to notice me. The offer of somewhere to sleep was completely unexpected though and proves just what a good person you are. I took your belongings and in return you gave me shelter and I don’t think I thanked you enough for that.

You’re in every corner of this town for me Alex and I know we didn’t have long but the time that we spent together before you left were some of the best days of my life.

I miss you.

Come back soon.

Michael

As he reached the last sentence, a knock on the passenger side window made him jump.

Max, in his uniform and hat, lifted his hand in a halfhearted wave and tilted his head towards the Crashdown as if to say are you coming?

A quick final glance through the window showed no sign of Jesse Manes and Michael slowly let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

September 2011

“This is a good look for you.” Michael whispered.

“What, naked?” Alex smiled softly, peering sleepily back at him.

Michael began to lightly trail his hand down Alex’s chest, watching Alex close his eyes at the sensation. “Naked. In my bed.”

Alex had shown up at his doorstep late last night, this time with some warning in his latest letter, and they hadn’t wasted any time. So fuelled with longing and desire, Michael couldn’t remember a second of last night where their bodies hadn’t been touching.

Looking at Alex now, with his perfect bed head and sun kissed skin, Michael wasn’t sure he was going to be able to let him leave.

He did have something important to talk to Alex about though. Something they had never really discussed that had been leaving Michael feeling very confused lately. He was twenty-one years old having the awkward teenage thought of are we together or is this just a bit of fun? Is this guy my boyfriend? Can I even say the word boyfriend without freaking him out?

“There was something I meant to talk to you about last night-” He began, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Did we actually talk at all last night?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.” Alex smiled, holding his lip between his teeth. “Go on, what did you want to say?”

“You know I do have a phone, right? An actual expensive one and everything thanks to Isobel buying it for me. So you can text me, instead of spending weeks waiting for a reply.”

Alex paused for a moment. How was it best to tell Michael without looking weak? How during Basic Training one nosy guy thought it would be fun to take his unlocked phone and look through his messages. How he was terrified of being outed that day and that fear had followed him through his few years of serving. How even though his letters are technically much easier to read, the lock on the box they were kept in is so thick you would need to have a bolt cutter handy to break it. Or the key, which was kept in a very secure location.

“There’s something more…personal, about writing a letter. ” He decided to go with. “Besides, phones can get hacked.”

“Who the hell is gonna want to hack into your phone?”

Alex shrugged with a smirk, “I’m just saying, after learning what I have in training, hacking your phone right now would be a piece of cake.”

“Right, and these hackers would want to, what? Use all our discussions about broken alien statues and nights out in the desert against us.”

“There are some terrible people out there.” The fake sincerity in Alex’s eyes as he nodded his head made Michael chuckle.

Alex pushed himself up fully in the bed, letting the sheets pool around his naked hips. He leant forward and Michael didn’t need to be asked twice to drop the subject and meet him halfway. As much as he loved last night, their slow morning kisses were even better. Soft and all smiles, filled with the gratitude that they were still sharing this moment together.

“I’m sorry I was late last night, the move this week has been busier than I expected.” Alex whispered between pecks.

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you made it. Where are you based now?”

“Maryland. Probably just for a month or so though until I get more permanent orders.”

Leaning back, Michael could see the weariness in Alex’s eyes. He knew that being in the military was a hard job - even harder if you had been forced into it - and Michael hated just how much responsibility had been put on Alex’s young shoulders.

His eyes twinkled as he got an idea, a way of lightening Alex’s load for a few hours. “You fancy going out tonight?”

Alex’s face dropped and Michael’s heart along with it. “Like, together?”

“No, I figured we’d go to different bars and get drunk separately.” Michael replied sarcastically.

This is not what he had expected. Alex saying no to a night out? Fine, not a problem, wouldn’t have been that surprising of an answer. Maybe he doesn’t fancy a drink, maybe he’s just not into partying anymore.

But was Alex saying no to them going out together?

“Is it because of me?” Michael could hear the anger beginning to grow in his tone but he couldn’t help it. This conversation had flipped completely out of nowhere. “When I told you about the whole drunk cowboy reputation I’ve gained, it was meant to make you laugh. Not make you ashamed of me.”

“I’m not ashamed!” Alex defensively shook his head.

“Then what is it? Cos I like doing this Alex, but I need to know what it is that we’re actually doing, where we’re going with it. Are we going anywhere with it?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say Guerin! Things are complicated right now.”

I want you to say you want to be with me! I want you to tell me you love me as much as I love you! Michael hadn’t expected for this to turn into an argument, but he was prepared to cause one if it meant getting answers.

But as he took a breath, he looked at Alex. Like properly looked at him. He had grown up so much since they’d last seen each other. He’d changed so much. But for the first time he was the one who was looking unsure about what to say.

The defensive hunch of his shoulders, the nervous look in his eyes. It reminded Michael so much of when Alex had first told him he was leaving. And those goddamn hubcaps.

This was the second time he had caused that look in Alex’s eyes and if he never saw it again it would be too soon. He still had a few days before Alex was going to leave him again and he should be making the most of them instead of pushing him away.

If Alex was unsure of what they were doing then so be it. They would have to discuss it at some point this weekend, for Michael’s own sanity more than anything, but for now he would have to let it go if it meant keeping Alex happy.

January 2012

Earth wasn’t his home.

He knew that. He’s known that since he woke up in a glowing alien pod. But it’s only through life’s lessons over the years that he’s really learnt that.

He didn’t belong here, with an inferior species that enjoyed hurting others simply because of who they were. He’d seen it happen in shops and on the street. People targeted for being different. It was such a human response and he shuddered at the thought of what it meant for them if their secret ever came out.

And who was keeping him here? Max and Isobel? Alex?

Him and Isobel were close, but she had her own life. Parents that loved her, a boyfriend she was besotted with. She didn’t need Michael hanging around, bringing her down.

His feelings on Max were like a sliding scale of rage. The other man had been acting like his father for most of his life, telling him what to do and how to live. Max says they should cover up Rosa’s death. Max says they should keep what they are a secret. Max, with his fancy job and respected standing in society. Michael didn’t need his help anymore or his pity.

And then there was Alex. The boy who made him believe there was a place for him on Earth. But now, Michael wasn’t so sure.The last time he had seen Alex in person, things hadn’t ended that great and though they’ve still been writing to each other, something had definitely changed. They had changed.

Michael reminded himself of all this as he climbed down the stairs into the junkyard’s fallout shelter.

He had discovered the hidden bunker one day after slipping away from Sanders during work hours to hunt for some more copper wire. The opening had been covered by a beaten up truck that had been sitting in the junkyard for years, he wasn’t sure if the old man even knew it was down there.

From that day on he had claimed it as his own, making sure it was covered every time he left.

His collection had started off small. A few legit pieces of alien artefact that he had stolen from the Emporium and the odd dark web purchase, but after a few stealthy ventures to the UFO crash site he had begun to discover even more fragments. Considering the people of Roswell had been obsessing over the crash since 1947, Michael was honestly surprised that not every piece of the ship had been excavated already.

Luckily for him, his latest night time search in the desert had proven successful and he had made it back to the bunker with two small glowing pieces.

Building up the secret bunker’s workshop had taken time and a few stolen supplies, but now there were tools and shelves and bulbs in the mismatched lighting decor that had thankfully already been installed.

Littering the worktops were sketches and blueprints of the measurements and calculations he had spent months working on. There were spools of tubing and a portable generator sitting on the shelf. But his prized possession resting on one of the tables was his slowly forming alien spaceship. He was pretty sure what he was building was the console, but maybe one day it would turn into the entire spacecraft.

Covered in alien symbols and shimmering to the touch, it could be his way off of this stupid planet.

Michael gently took the pieces out of his pocket and held them close to the ship. One did nothing, staying stubbornly in his palm, but the other rose into the air and delicately travelled to one of the broken sides, a faint blue glistening the surface as the sharp edges knitted together like they had never been broken.

Placing the remaining piece on the table, Michael sighed. One day he would find all the pieces and finish this. And when that day came, there would be nothing to keep him here.

October 2012

“You’re staying whether you like it or not.” Isobel gave him a pointed look as she rummaged through the crates of decorations piled on the table in front of her.

“Yeah Michael, it’ll be fun.” Max said enthusiastically, holding a fist under his chin and batting his eyelids. A move they had both seen Isobel pull several times when mocking her mother.

She smacked Max on the arm, furious that he would belittle all of her hard work, before shoving a large plastic box into his chest. “The crop circle exhibit needs more bats.”

Her brother took the box with an exaggerated sigh but obliged nevertheless. He had learnt long ago that when Isobel was running things you either got on with it or got the hell out of her way.

With one brother now busy, she moved onto the next. “Right, there’s a few banners that need putting up and then you can go get changed.”

Her demand was met with silence which worried Isobel greatly and when she glanced up from her checklist, she didn’t appreciate the confused look in Michael’s eyes. “Please tell me you have a costume. It’s Halloween Michael!”

“I didn’t exactly plan on staying, Isobel!” he retaliated. He’d been asked to come and fix the glitchy projector in the knock-off Men In Black room, not spend all night with a bunch of people he didn’t know, surrounded by dumb gimmicky aliens. “Why did you choose to have it here anyway? Isn’t it a bit degrading to us as a species?”

“I didn’t choose it. The Emporium wanted a Halloween event and I’m just part of the committee running it.” She ticked off another item on her list, not rising to his provocation. “Now, go help Max.”

Accepting an easy defeat, Michael took the closest pile of decorations and headed to the exhibit. There were several people milling around each room of the Emporium, all engaged in one task or another. A group of middle aged women were rigorously dusting the artefact cabinets and two guys he vaguely recognised from around town were fixing lighting rigs to the ceiling.

His heart skipped a beat as he reached the UFO room, his eyes drawn immediately to the spot where he and Alex shared their first kiss. He had been so nervous that day, tentatively grabbing the other boy’s face before he could talk himself out of it, praying that Alex wouldn’t pull away.

Through the red fabric curtains at the back of the room was the crop circle exhibit. It was completely empty of people save for Max attempting to loop a small fuzzy bat around one of the hanging lights.

Taking pity on him, Michael willed the creature to float the extra few inches and fasten itself around the wire. It had been a while since he’d used his powers in a public setting and it gave him such a rush to get away with it unseen. It was quite embarrassing really. It’s not like he was committing a crime in the middle of a police station. Unless you were looking closely, the fact that some objects floated when he was nearby was actually surprisingly easy to miss.

Max’s head immediately whipped round, eyes wide with trepidation. “Dude, what if someone walks in?”

“Chill, Deputy. We’re safe.” Michael rolled his eyes as he began to stroll around the room. He hadn’t been in here since Alex’s last day and literally nothing had changed. I mean, fair enough, there hadn’t exactly been any more alien encounters since then to add to the exhibition. But they could have put some effort in and switched things up a bit.

As he turned to speak to Max his foot caught something, but without hesitation his telekinesis acted fast to catch the alien statue mid-fall. Settling it back on its two feet with his mind, Michael chuckled to himself as he realised exactly what it was that he had knocked over. Turns out the little guy did still have his head on backwards.

It had been four years since Alex’s last day working the ticket booth, when they had sneaked inside during his lunch break to passionately kiss in the dark corners of the museum. If Michael hadn’t been so distracted that day he would have caught the alien before it had a chance to decapitate itself and ruin his make out session.

They had frantically tried to re-attach it, getting their fingers covered in the glue. But alas, as an excitable eighteen year old, Michael had been too focused on the boy he was with to notice he was putting the head on backwards.

Four years and nobody had dealt with the owl impersonating alien. The Emporium really was going downhill.

“You know, if you don’t want to stay I’ll cover for you with her majesty.” Max interrupted his thoughts as he took a banner from the pile still bunched in Michael’s arms and surveyed the room to decide where best to hang it.

“Nah, it’s alright. Can’t leave you without a wingman, can I?” Michael playfully raised an eyebrow as he dumped the pile on the floor and grabbed the other end of the banner.

“I’m serious Michael. You don’t actually have to do as she says you know.” Max grinned at him, hooking his side onto one of the picture frames hanging on the wall and watching Michael do the same.

Michael looked over at his friend. When the day began he had planned to end it in the airstream, drunk on whiskey and in bed with a beautiful stranger. But standing in front of him was his chance to do something different for a change, to spend some time with the only family he had left and maybe even remember it all in the morning.

“I know. But maybe you’re right. It could be fun.”

March 2013

So it was letters like these that made Michael feel guilty about how he’d been spending his time. Or more specifically who he’d been spending his time with.

For the first time in years he could go entire weeks without thinking of Alex once and the odd drunken hookup definitely helped to keep his mind off the boy who barely wrote to him anymore.

It had become a recurring thing for him, much to the chagrin of Isobel who vehemently disapproved of his life choices. She couldn’t understand why Michael wouldn’t want to find someone special and settle down with them. But he wouldn’t expect any less from the girl who was so head over heels in love with her boyfriend.

Isobel had Noah, and Michael?

Michael had Vicky. Last night.

They met at the Pony, as these stories often started for him, and had enjoyed a very long, very sensual night together within the small confines of the airstream.

She made him coffee in the morning, engaged in an appropriate amount of small talk, then left. A perfect night by all accounts, so why couldn’t the rest of his day be perfect too?

When the mailman loudly interrupted his work on his latest batch of sketches he had been tempted not to answer. When he immediately recognised Alex’s handwriting on the front of the envelope he had been very tempted not to open it.

One day he would stop giving in to his feelings for Alex. Today was not that day.

Dear Michael,

I saw someone die today.

I feel kind of numb right now which doesn’t seem right to me, but it’s like I can’t tell what emotion I should be feeling, so I’m just hoping that getting the words onto paper might help get them out of my head.

I don’t know whether I’m supposed to have been prepared for it or not, I mean it’s an occupational hazard that I signed up for so I should be fine, right? I’ve been in Iraq for almost two months now, on my second deployment, and yet this is the first time I’ve actually seen someone get killed right in front of me. So does that make me lucky to have gone this long without it happening?

I could have saved him. If I had just been closer, if I had gotten there quicker, he probably wouldn’t have died. But then if I was closer I probably wouldn’t be writing this right now so I guess I am the lucky one.

I hadn’t known him long but he was a good kid, always hard at work, always looking out for everyone. He was younger than me.

The guys are so quiet. Nobody knows what to do with themselves and this bit I’m strangely used to. It’s not the first time someone I know has been killed and things can’t come to a stop while we’re out here no matter the circumstances. But for a short while after something like this happens it’s like the light inside of everyone just disappears. Like we’re reminded all over again of how quickly things can change here.

We’ll be okay though, we’ll pick each other up and move on. But we’ll never forget him.

They’ll never forget his service. And I’ll never forget what I saw.

I’m sorry, it’s selfish to burden you with this but I just really needed to tell someone.

Hope everything is okay in Roswell.

Stay safe,

Alex.

And just like that Michael was drawn back into the little Alex loving bubble he had been desperately trying to pop.

Stay safe. He writes an entire letter about seeing someone die and he tells Michael to stay safe. And if that didn’t sum up Alex he didn’t know what did. Always trying to look out for other people, even if it hurts him.

Michael re-read the line about being quicker, being closer and something tightens in his chest. He could still remember how guilty Alex had felt after the incident in the toolshed all those years ago, so Michael knew exactly how much Alex would be putting his colleague’s death on his shoulders right now. And if he had been close enough to help, Michael was well aware of how willingly he would have sacrificed himself to keep his teammates safe.

He didn’t even know that Alex was in Iraq. Their communication had slowed so much recently and this entire time Michael had chalked it up to him no longer wanting to keep in contact but maybe this was why he hadn’t been writing.

It reminded him yet again of how little he really knew about Alex’s job and the things he had to face. As much as he would love it, he could hardly expect constant letters with updates of every little part of Alex’s life.

But he could support him. From the safety of his airstream where there were no bullets flying and people dying around him, he could listen to what Alex had to say no matter how long it took to arrive.

His sleeping around had been a poor attempt of cleansing Alex and the war he was fighting from his mind, but Alex would never get that luxury. Not until he was out of the Air Force and back home at least.

The fear of Alex dying was at the forefront of his thoughts once more, but maybe it was a good thing - the kind of fear that propels you forward and gives you hope that things will change. Habits were hard to break but maybe he would take Isobel’s advice and wait for his someone special to make it home.

August 2013

Friday night at the Wild Pony brought out all manner of locals. Friends reuniting after being away for months, married couples taking the time to cool off after a long week at work, the happy drunks, the racist drunks, and already at the bar being served his first drink of the evening, the lonely cowboy.

Max’s shift didn’t end for another hour, but Michael figured there wouldn’t be any harm in getting to the Pony early. He had a higher tolerance than Max anyway so it was better to get a head start.

As he was lifting his first alcohol filled glass to his lips he heard the voice of someone he hadn’t seen in five years. He barely suppressed a groan as he sneaked a glimpse to his left.

“More tequila’s please, Maria.” The man’s voice dripped with confidence.

Michael watched as he placed a tray of empty shot glasses on the bar top before leaning forward, his forearms dropping heavily onto the wood.

Maria took the tray with a smile and got to work.

“Guerin. Still in Roswell, I see.” He said casually, turning to look at Michael.

“Valenti. Still a dick, I see.” Michael replied, giving his best fake smile.

Kyle’s brow furrowed in surprise at the attitude being directed towards him. He must have remembered Michael’s reputation from school, but he clearly hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of it half a decade later.

“How have you been?” He continued regardless, somewhat optimistic in the face of Michael’s pre-drunk demeanour. Maria unscrewed the bottle cap and Michael could see her watching them carefully as if they were the main feature of her Wild Pony nature documentary.

“Since when do you care?” Michael remarked tightly, smile still plastered on his face and when Kyle scoffed and looked away, Michael was almost disappointed. The guy from high school would have had him on his ass by now.

“Whatever.” Kyle muttered just as Maria filled the last glass. He slapped some money onto the bar, sliding it forward to meet Maria’s waiting hand and she took it gratefully, put it straight in the till.

“See you around.” He spoke to no-one in particular before leaving with the tray, though not fast enough in Michael’s opinion.

Maria rolled her eyes as she put the tequila bottle back on the shelf. “What did Kyle ever do to you?”

“Do you not remember him in high school?” Michael asked, glancing over his shoulder at where Kyle was handing out the shot glasses round the table. It wasn’t a surprise to see that he was still Mr Popular with the big group of friends.

“Oh no, I remember him. I just don’t remember you ever talking to him.”

“Didn’t have to talk to him to know he was an asshole.” Michael muttered as he downed the last of his drink.

He’d witness enough of his taunting to know exactly what kind of person Kyle Valenti was. He was the cliche jock surrounded by a constant posse of football players, using his popularity to get away with bullying innocent kids.

Nerdy kids whose fear of authority and eagerness to please everyone would be taken advantage of.

Poor kids whose worn down shoes and too small clothes would be an instant target on their backs.

Gay kids who did absolutely nothing to deserve the brunt of Kyle’s torment for so many years. Gay kids who could also pack a mean punch when it really came down to it.

Kyle had made it his mission in high school to ruin Alex’s life and Michael would never forgive him for it. Simple as that.

“What is he even doing here anyway?”

Maria picked up the closest bottle of whiskey and refilled his glass. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed at how well she knew his drinking habits.

“He’s been travelling to visit family but now he’s back for a few weeks to see some friends before his next year of med school starts.” Maria answered easily, letting out a huff of laughter as Michael narrowed his eyes in confusion. “When you’re this side of the bar, people tell you everything…like I’m sure you’ll be doing soon enough.”

Michael smirked as he took another swig of whiskey. It burned in his chest before settling uneasily in his stomach. “You love it Deluca, don’t try and deny it.”

Taking another look behind him, Michael watched as Kyle spoke, gesturing wildly with his arms as his words held the attention of everyone circled around him. He looked no different from high school, same dark quiff styled neatly with gel, same bulging muscles on show under his tight fitting top, same punchable face.

Watching Alex take a swing at Kyle during prom had been a very proud moment for Michael - and he had barely even known Alex by that point. If he hadn’t been worried that Alex would get hurt, Michael would have gladly watched him punch Kyle for the rest of the evening.

“I think he’s changed, you know.” Maria interrupted his thoughts as she wiped down the bar top in front of him. Her bracelets jangled noisily with every movement. “College has been good for him.”

Michael watched as she ran her necklace between her fingers and went about collecting the empty beer bottles sitting at the end of the bar. “Kyle Valenti will never change.”

Deep down a tiny part of him would admit that Maria was right. Since leaving high school everyone he’s known has changed in some way or another - normally for the better as they grow out of their ignorant, childish ways. But he just couldn’t imagine golden boy Kyle Valenti turning his life around that much. And even though one day Alex, with his heart of gold, will probably end up forgiving Kyle, Michael never would.

June 2014

“I’m just saying, if Noah expects me to take it easy with this wedding organisation, he’s got another thing coming.” Isobel spoke animatedly as the three of them walked down the street. “I am practically the unofficial Roswell party planning committee after all.”

“Isn’t a committee normally a group of people?” Max quizzed, moving out of the way for a little boy on his bike that was riding towards them.

“Not what you’re supposed to be taking from this conversation, Max.” Isobel glared at him. “I got proposed to guys!”

“Yeah, we got that from the first fifty times you told us.” Michael remarked, righting the cowboy hat that had slipped down on his head.

“Well, I’m allowed to be excited!”

Max gave his sister a fond smile. “Of course you are. But I think any more wedding talk today will literally melt Michael’s brain.”

It had been over a week since Noah had gotten down on one knee and Max and Michael had heard every possible recounting of the evening along with every guest list suggestion, every wedding hairstyle idea, even every floral arrangement possibility. As a couple, they had barely had a chance to set a date, yet Isobel was now firmly stuck in wedding planner mode.

It was Max who had put forward that the three of them meet up. It was his first day off after a busy week of shifts and it was warm out, though the suggestion to make the most of the sun was also a ploy to force Isobel to take a break from her obsessing. But unfortunately the wedding seemed to have followed them.

It didn’t really bother them though as they strolled through town, soaking up the warmth of the rays and enjoying each other’s company. Isobel was happy and in love and it was exactly what she deserved.

As they neared the end of the road, they reached the Crashdown. The cafe was a hubbub of happy, smiling customers and servers in their uniforms and antennae, but it was hard to miss the derogatory, racist words spray painted across the windows. Michael didn’t envy the poor waiter who was desperately scrubbing at them with soapy water.

Every year on the anniversary of Rosa Ortecho’s death the Crashdown was vandalised and every year it hurt more and more to witness.

Arturo Ortecho didn’t deserve the hate he got because of what happened to his daughter. He didn’t deserve for his livelihood, his home to be wrecked every year because of a choice Isobel made. A choice they all made.

After the fateful night six years ago, they had sworn to each other they would not set foot in the Crashdown again, to separate themselves from the Ortecho’s completely. But over the years, whether it be from guilt or concern, they had never been able to keep that promise.

“Let’s go in,” Max said after a moment of staring inside.

“Max-” Michael warned. He was all for keeping up appearances but today of all days they ought to be keeping a low profile when it came to the Crashdown.

“We should show our support. It’s the least we can do.” Max turned to look at him pointedly. And as much as Michael hated it, he was right. They had managed to keep the events of that night a secret for so long now. Avoiding the place once a year wasn’t really going to have as big an impact as they liked to think it would.

And being the cause of Mr Ortecho’s suffering, it was the least they could do.

Entering with a smile, they found a booth in the corner and Michael was made designated ‘seat saver’ as Max and Isobel went up to the counter. They all knew each other’s orders off by heart, but neither sibling wanted to run the risk of potentially running into Arturo alone for fear of not knowing what to say.

Michael watched as the waiter outside finished with one window and moved onto the next.

He was lucky in a way. He could go months without thinking about what they chose to do to those three girls. How they covered up the murders and framed an innocent for it. He doubted Arturo ever had the pleasure of forgetting about the death of his eldest daughter.

And now, as he tried to forget once more about certain events of that night, his mind was drawn to the other life changing incident and his worry for Alex reignited all over again. He had been able to protect Alex from his father back then, but whilst they were on two separate continents, Michael was powerless.

Not that he thought Alex needed his protection. Michael knew just how strong he was, but the job of an airman was unpredictable.

In an attempt to calm his mind, he thought back to the letter he had received yesterday and tried to recall the words it contained.

Dear Michael,

I can’t believe you managed to find work on Mr Anderson’s ranch! Or more specifically, I can’t believe he willingly hired you after the amount of trouble you caused him. I’m guessing you didn’t tell him that it was you that drove straight through his crop field or let all those horses out when we were younger? Because you know as well as I do, that man holds a grudge.

I’m glad you’re finding all this work. I used to worry that you wouldn’t realise how skilled you were so it’s nice to hear that people are actually appreciating your hard work.

I’ve spent the past week updating security measures here and the all-nighters are reminding me of high school before a math test or something. I think I actually used to go days without sleeping sometimes if I was trying to cram in revision and I honestly don’t know how I managed it back then. Teenage me was obviously a lot stronger.

There’s rumours that we could be heading back to North Dakota next month, but I’m not getting my hopes up. Germany’s not too bad, the people have been great and the food is delicious. On our down days we’ve been going to this cafe just outside of base. They have this type of iced coffee that tastes amazing and I’ve definitely had it far too much judging by the amount of teasing I get from my team every time I order it.

As nice as it is here though, it would be good to be back on home soil. I feel like I’ve been away from America for so long.

I’ll let you know if we do end up moving bases and maybe I’ll visit Roswell again soon.

Hope you’re okay.

From,

Alex.

Michael was pulled out of his thoughts as Max and Isobel took their seats. They were bickering about something or other and the familiarity forced all his worries to the back of his mind.

Alex would be home soon and Michael would be able to hold him in his arms and everything would be alright. And for now, he would make the most of his time with the rest of his family.

October 2014

Michael was warming himself by the fire when a car pulled up by the airstream. He had managed to find the old burn barrel at the junkyard a few months ago along with some mismatched chairs and lighting the fire had become a calming night time occurrence for him.

He brought the beer bottle to his lips and took a sip, wordlessly watching as Alex stepped out of the car and wandered over to him. He wasn’t sure why Alex was even here. The letters had been getting infrequent again, the enthusiasm dwindling, and Michael had been starting to suspect that their hearts were just no longer in it.

Alex had informed him that he was on leave for a few days and Michael had been happy, excited even. But at some point between this morning - where he had been frantically trying to calm his nerves as he tided up the place - to this evening, something had changed. He’d managed to overthink everything he’d been wanting to say to Alex for a long time now.

“Hey.” Alex smiled politely as he came to a stop by the fire. If he thought it strange that Michael hadn’t greeted him he didn’t mention it, but he did pause, hands clasped behind his back, almost waiting for permission to take a seat.

Michael took another gulp of beer, watching Alex carefully. “You can sit down you know.”

Alex didn’t need to be told twice, dropping into the seat closest to him. He looked older, the years of service catching up on him, hardening him against all that he had seen.

“How have you been?” He asked. His voice was calm but Michael could see the wariness in his eyes. So he had noticed Michael’s rather frosty welcoming.

“Same as always.” Michael muttered, looking off into the distance.

“Are you okay-”

“What are you doing here, Alex?” Michael blurted out before he lost the nerve.

Alex’s eyes widened at the outburst, “Sorry, I thought you said I could drop by when I got back.”

“Okay fine, what are we doing here?” Michael rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, “I mean this thing we’re doing, is it real or just some hookup for when you come home?”

Alex recoiled at the accusation and Michael could feel the guilt creeping in once more at the hurt in Alex’s eyes. Okay so maybe that was a bit harsh, but there was no point dragging out this conversation for the next three days. Plus, he suspected his veins were filled more of alcohol than blood right now and when he was on a roll there was no stopping him.

“Last time you were here I tried to have this conversation with you and we got nowhere. That was years ago and we’re still dancing around it.”

“You know it’s not like that. The sex I mean. I don’t come here just to sleep with you, I come to see you.” The fire crackled loudly, the flames casting an orange glow over Alex as he spoke. “I’m sorry I haven’t been writing much lately. Your letters mean everything to me and I like doing this with you, but I just…”

“Just what?” Michael demanded. He could see Alex take a breath as he tried to word the next sentence correctly in his head.

“Anything could happen while I’m in the Air Force and I just don’t think you should pin your hopes on this.”

If Michael could stop with the tunnel vision for two seconds he would realise that Alex was trying to protect him, but all he heard was that Alex didn’t want to be with him, not properly at least. Not as his boyfriend, his partner, his other half.

Michael didn’t have an answer and Alex had no more to add.

They had barely spent five minutes in each other’s company after years apart and they’d already been rendered quiet. It isn’t how either of them had expected it to go. They sat in the uncomfortable silence, their gazes fixed on the fire but barely registering the flames licking the air. Neither wanted to make the first move.

The beautiful boy he had been in love with since they were seventeen had practically just told him that they would never be together and instead of feeling sad or desperate, Michael fell back to his default emotion. He was filled with so much anger he could practically feel it burning under his skin.

The moment he kissed Alex in the museum all those years ago he had seen the future they could have together, but now, in the cool autumn evening as he watched the tips of the flames reaching up to the sky, that dream was crumbling.

“Do you want me to go?” Alex asked faintly after a few minutes.

Yes! If you walk away now then I’ll have my final answer and it will make all of this so much easier.

“No.”

Alex had only just gotten there and as pissed off as Michael felt, the thought of him leaving again suddenly hurt like hell. “I miss you.” He whispered, struggling to make eye contact at the admission.

In his peripheral vision he could see Alex pause uneasily, almost waiting for another outburst, and when none came the airman replied with a wary smile. “Me too.”

May 2015

Another soda can went flying into the air and Max shot it down with trained precision. It almost hit Isobel on the way down who couldn’t hold back a squeal as she moved out of the way.

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here for this.” She huffed at the boys as she righted herself in the chair. Her plans for the weekend had involved shopping, TV and sleeping. It had been a long week and it was what she deserved. Instead, she was getting sand in her shoes and cans flung towards her face.

“You’re the one who said we should practice using our powers more.” Michael smirked, concentrating on the unopened can sitting on the desk inside the airstream. With barely any effort, he watched as it floated through the doorway and over towards Isobel.

“That was an excuse to get into Old Man Simmons’ head and you know it.” She narrowed his eyes at him but grabbed the can anyway. “Besides, isn’t there a more productive way to train?”

“What are you talking about? We used to do this all the time.” Max lifted the gun and signalled for Michael to throw the next can into the air.

“Yeah, when we were like seventeen. Don’t know if you noticed but we’re not kids anymore.”

“Tell me about it. Did you know Sheriff Valenti let me assist on another murder case last week. She said I’m showing potential.”

“Bit of a morbid thing to brag about there, Deputy.” Michael grinned as he used his power to send the next can flying, trying to catch Max off guard with its speed. Max was too slow to hit it during its ascent, but before it touched the ground he had sent a bullet clean through it.

Michael whistled in amazement and clapped Max on the back. They may be adults now but hitting a target was just as exciting as when they were kids.

Isobel was less than impressed if the furrowed brow was anything to go by. She honestly couldn’t understand the desire to shoot things. “Great, you hit it. Can I go now?”

She made a point of checking the time on her phone with a sigh and Max gave Michael such a sibling look. The kind of look that clearly conveyed annoyance, irritation and the simple question of will she ever stop complaining.

“Will you lighten up Iz, it’s just a bit of fun.” Michael rolled his eyes dramatically. “Now hurry up and drink that, we’re gonna need it soon.”

He was about the throw another can when he noticed a white van driving up the path, recognising it immediately. He felt bad for the guy, having to come out to the middle of nowhere every month or so just to drop off a single letter.

He walked over to meet the mailman as he parked in front of them and gratefully took the letter passed to him through the open window.

“Who the hell is sending you mail?” Isobel leaned forward in her chair as the van drove off and Michael was worried for a second that she would get up and take it from him before he could stop her. She never did have good impulse control.

“It’s probably just junk.” He said dismissively, staring down at his name and address. He didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. He had literally never received a single letter from anyone else in his life.

He tried to plaster on his best nonchalant face as he jogged over to the airstream and prayed that the others wouldn’t ask questions. “It’s fine, I’ll check it later.”

Bypassing every surface entirely, knowing full well that if Isobel saw it on the desk she would open it, he opened the compartment above his bed. The cupboard had gotten more crowded over the years, but the shoebox still had its special little place inside. He looked down at the letter in his hand one more time, debating whether to just rip it open then and there, before sliding it on top of the box.

He’d read it later when he wasn’t busy.

September 2015

“Ahh Deluca. It’s been while.” Michael grinned as he took a seat at the bar. It was early evening on a Friday so the place was pretty packed, but luckily for him there was always a stool empty.

Maria grabbed a glass from the rack and the bottle of whiskey from behind her and began pouring. There were other servers behind the bar so she could afford to take her time conversing with this particular regular.

“Yes, surprisingly I did notice your absence from my bar recently and honestly I’m not sure who that looks worse for.”

“You. Definitely you.” Michael said dryly as he picked up the nearest coaster and began to twirl it between his fingers. “Besides if you were that desperate to see my ruggedly handsome face you wouldn’t have skipped your shift last Friday.”

“The fact that you know my shift pattern is not a good look for you Guerin.” Maria raised her eyebrows with a smirk. “Besides, I’m allowed a night off every now and then.”

“Oh yeah? To do what? Paint your nails? Have a nice little bubble bath? Some other girl related activity?”

“To see a friend actually. Because I have those.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” He muttered playfully and she moved forward to dramatically knock the coaster out of his hand.

“We had a lovely time, thank you for asking. He hasn’t been back home in ages so we decided to make a weekend of it.”

Michael froze at her words. There was really only one person she could be talking about but he asked the question anyway. “What friend is this?”

“Alex? Manes? He went to school with us. Former emo kid turned airman.”

Michael’s mouth suddenly felt very dry and he couldn’t get his words out. He grabbed the drink that Maria had poured and took a large gulp. “Alex was here?”

“Yeah he had a few days leave so he came to see me. It was really sweet of him, I mean he’s worked hard for that time off and he could literally do anything with it but he chose to come here. I think he was missing home a bit actually.”

Michael bit his lip, almost enough to draw blood. He was suddenly filled with so much hurt he didn’t know what to do with it. “Was he okay?”

“Yeah. I think his work has been a bit tough recently but he seemed happy.” Maria smiled gently.

Seemed happy? Did that mean Alex was happy because he was home? Or because he was spending his time with someone other than Michael?

Michael was glad he was happy, of course he was glad. Alex’s happiness is all he’s ever wanted. And of course, he has a right to visit other friends, it was never Michael’s place to tell him not to. Even when he had stayed with Michael in the past, he had always made time to say hello to other friends before he had to leave again.

But this time he hadn’t even mentioned to Michael that he was coming home. Not a single word in any of the intermittent letters.

And maybe Michael was to blame. The last time they had seen each other hadn’t exactly been perfect. And recently he’d been putting off replying for weeks which Alex must have noticed. But he still always replied in the end! So that must have meant something, right? It must have proven to Alex that he still cared, that he would still want to spend time with him.

There was no way Alex could have known that he would find out. Michael had never properly mentioned the little love-hate friendship he had struck up with Maria over the years, so really Alex could never have predicted this. And that’s probably what he had wanted, to spend time in Roswell under the radar, away from Michael.

Should he be angry about this? Was he angry? Yes. He was probably being overdramatic but this seemed like the final nail in the coffin of their unspoken relationship.

Suddenly, he had the desperate urge to take his mind off everything he’d just heard so without thinking he turned to what he did best. Paying Maria half of what he owed for the drink, he locked eyes with a cute girl at the other end of the bar and eagerly slid off the stool, ready to make a night of it.

January 2016

Isobel grabbed his face and kissed him on the cheek before he could stop her. The fireworks exploding into a hundred sparks above their heads were loud, but the cheering from the mass of people crowded outside of the Pony seemed louder.

“Happy New Year!!” Isobel practically screamed in his ear before turning to plant an overly enthusiastic kiss on Noah’s lips. This was probably the most drunk he had ever seen Isobel and every second of it was brilliant.

Max clapped a hand on Michael’s back and they tapped glasses in a less enthusiastic celebration. When Michael had suggested that the four of them go to the Wild Pony for New Year’s he had expected to be shot down instantly, but now that they were here he was glad they had actually agreed.

It had been a good night. There was plenty of alcohol, loud music and he’d won several games of pool - all without using his powers! Even Deluca had seemed almost happy to see him but he put that down to the Christmas spirit she’d been radiating for the past week.

Watching the fireworks felt like such a cliche way to end it. It was perfect. The colours lit up the sky, the bright blues and pinks of the explosions reminding him of the alien console that was slowly coming together beneath the earth of the junkyard and the booms were so powerful he could practically feel them reverberating in his chest.

He had drunk far too much to be able to quite remember how he made it home, but closing the door behind him, he noticed how lonely the airstream felt after spending the evening in a crowd of people.

He threw his hat onto the desk and his shoes into the nearest corner and dropped onto the bed with a sigh. He clenched his left fist a few times as the ache became noticeable again. Even after all these years, the cold weather still wreaked havoc with his injury, making it cramp or stiffen up at the worst times.

As he stared up at the ceiling he had an idea. A truly terrible idea. And if he was sober he would have realised that, but sensible Michael had taken a break for the night.

He rolled off the bed and stumbled the short distance to his desk. For a messy person, his supplies were surprisingly organised with the paper stacked in one draw and a few envelopes scattered in another. He grabbed the closest pen to him and tested it worked on a scrap design that he hadn’t had the heart to throw away yet.

His uneven lettering would probably give away his drunken state but he didn’t care. This was probably the most honest he would ever be with Alex so why not take advantage of that.

Dear Alex,

I guess I should wish you a happy new year.

You know we’ve never spent a new years together? I know you’re really busy in your super important job but it would have been nice for you to celebrate it at home one year. Or maybe you did and you just didn’t tell me.

I’ve been thinking about leaving Roswell. 2016 has officially begun and I’m stuck doing the same thing I’ve been doing my entire life, living in some tiny metal box and getting paid a measly amount at a job I only half show up to.

So maybe I should just leave. Get out of the town that’s filled with heaps of bad memories. Like all the shit that happened with Max and Isobel, all the stuff with your dad. Everywhere I look in this town has been tainted by bad people and bad choices.

So you know what they say, new year, new start.

I might go to Vegas and try my luck there. Or Texas. It’s not as far but at least I’d fit in. Or maybe I’ll just leave America completely! Europe sounds nice and I bet it isn’t just miles of sand.

I used to wish we could leave together. I’d save up enough money and as soon as you got out of the Air Force we’d just leave. It wouldn’t matter where, just anywhere away from this town. And we’d probably run out of money and it would be an absolute disaster but that would be okay because at least we’d be together.

I don’t think you want that though Alex, I think you’ve already moved on and that really hurts. So maybe I should just move on too.

Enjoy the new year with your boys.

Michael

Without reading it over, he folded the paper into an envelope and sealed it before he could second guess anything.

In the morning he wouldn’t remember what the letter said, but he’d post it anyway.

November 2016

Roswell always did go all out for Veterans Day. There were banners hung in every building, flags flying proudly from every window and it was as though every Roswell born member of the Armed Forces - past and present - had returned for the annual celebration. All except one.

The evening’s event was held at the drive in, organised by the one and only Isobel Evans-Bracken and that was the only reason Michael was there. To support Isobel and that’s it.

This day was hard most years. The constant reminders of Alex everywhere he’d go, the odd sighting of Jesse Manes being thanked for his service when that man was the entire reason for Alex’s absence.

He had always believed that he would get used to it the longer Alex was away. The town was very pro-military and there always seemed to be some parade or other so the constant reminders should have made him accustomed to the feelings it brought up.

But wishful thinking strikes again.

And this year seemed to be the worst of the lot.

He and Alex had hardly spoken all year and the letters he did receive sounded like Alex was just checking if he was still in Roswell more than anything else. He never quite worked out what gave the airman the impression that he would be leaving anytime soon.

To be fair though, all of his replies had been short and vague with a rather blunt tone that he couldn’t help. A small part of him knew that he was pushing Alex away and it was screaming at him, begging him to stop, but he didn’t listen. Unfortunately, when he was hurt his self preservation kicked in big time.

Grabbing another beer from the cooler, he took a seat next to Max on the back of the truck and watched as Master Sergeant Jesse Manes took to the stage to give a speech about duty and sacrifice and how those who had lost their lives had done so proudly in the service of their country.

It made him wonder if Alex would feel proud in his last moments. If the worst happened, would he be glad to die for his country or would he be afraid? Would he be filled with fear as he lay in the dirt, cold and bleeding, waiting for help that wasn’t going to arrive on time? Would he be with his team, surrounded by love and friendship and people begging him to be okay or would he be alone?

Or maybe it would be quick. A swift bullet to the head or heart. A nice clean shot and a point to the enemy. There one minute and gone the next.

Would Alex even feel it?

Would Michael?

As the townsfolk and various uniformed men and women began clapping loudly around him, his mind was brought back to the present. Manes gave a wave to the crowd as he ended his speech and passed the microphone over to Isobel to announce the evening’s agenda.

As she listed the live music and entertainment that was in store, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on her words instead of the thoughts circling his head. He didn’t know why he still cared so much. Alex wasn’t Michael’s to protect or worry about. Not anymore.

Michael had moved on and maybe if he drunk enough tonight, his heart would finally believe that and his mind would stop reciting the latest letter that had arrived at his door.

Dear Michael,

We were shipped off to Baghdad two months ago.

I wasn’t going to tell you because I don’t want you to worry and it’s not fair for me to force this onto you when you’re off living your own life now. It’s just a lot has happened on this tour already and I’ve been getting this feeling that I should probably let you know that I’m here.

All things considered, I’m actually quite lucky that this is only my third deployment bearing in mind how many years I’ve been serving. I’ve heard stories about some people who are on tour after tour and I don’t think I’d be able to handle the never ending missions.

It turns out I must be quite good at my job though because the team I’m with requested me. They needed someone with my specialist skillset so I guess its rather flattering but it makes me think that this job is going to be harder than the others.

It’s crazy to think about how much I’ve accomplished since I first joined. Seventeen year old Alex would hate that I’m still here but I guess he didn’t know the world like I do now. I still think about him sometimes though, the rebellious kid who wore too much eyeliner.

I know I don’t say it much but I’m really grateful for the time we spent together back then. And since then. They’re some of my favourite memories.

But I’m glad you’ve found your own path in life. You have a job that you love, a place to live that you can call your own and friends and family that you can always turn to.

I hope everyone is okay back home. I hope you’re okay.

And more than anything, I hope that you’re happy. It’s what you deserve and I’m sure one day you’ll find someone who sees that and makes you even happier.

From,

Alex.

He hated that Alex was back there.

And he hated that the letter sounded like a goodbye.

February 2017

Dear Alex,

I know it’s taken me a while to reply. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I’ve just been thinking about everything that’s happened and I didn’t want to say something I would regret. You’d probably tell me that I was overthinking and I’d dramatically disagree of course. But you would be right.

I’ve been thinking a lot about where you are right now and all of the bad things that could happen. I’m not going to go into how many soldiers have died over there because I’m sure you know more about it than me, just make sure you’re not added to that list, okay? I haven’t acted like it recently but it worries me that you’re somewhere so dangerous, so please be careful.

I know we’ve drifted but I still care about you Alex so I need you to be okay. I’ve been distancing myself from you these past few years and I’m sorry for that. I thought you were pushing me away so I did all I could to push you away first. I know I can’t change that now but maybe it can be different going forward.

It’s been almost three years since I last saw you in person and in a weird way it feels like yesterday. Three years sounds like a long time but looking back, it’s flown past way too quickly. So much has changed since then. I see Sanders occasionally but I haven’t worked at the junkyard in years, Isobel is married, the Wild Pony has starting having open mic nights and the Crashdown has gained about ten new milkshakes.

But I suppose the one constant is that you haven’t been here. You’ve been off being an American hero and that’s such an incredible achievement. You’ve travelled to places that I will never go, accomplished things I will probably never understand and been involved in so much that I can never know about.

I’m sure it hasn’t always been the positive experience that people make it out to be, but I’m so happy you’ve been able to make something of your life.

You’re probably on some super secret mission right now with your little carefully selected team, but if you’ve got a minute, let me know that you’re okay.

Michael

July 2017

Alex hadn't answered. Five months and four goddamn letters and Alex hadn't answered a single one. And Michael was pissed.

Well, first he was terrified. He had made up all manner of excuses. Maybe the letters got lost in the post. Maybe Alex was too busy to reply. But the never ending weeks of radio silence soon left Michael thinking the worst.

He had scoured the news headlines for any reports of American deaths in Iraq, he checked the obituary lists for any updates and he kept an ear out for any locals discussing the untimely death of Alex Manes.

He didn’t want to find out but he needed to know the truth.

Maria hadn’t mentioned anything in the many nights he had spent drowning his sorrows at the bar, so he took that as a good sign but then again she could just be as in the dark as he was.

After a while though, when no bad news had surfaced, he accepted the sad fact that Alex had chosen not to reply.

That the man he once loved had read his letters and hadn’t cared enough to respond. That he’d read the carefully selected words that conveyed Michael’s love and gratitude and worry. That he’d held the paper in his hands, each letter more honest than the last, and had decided to leave Michael hanging.

And if it proved one thing, it’s that he was right to stop waiting for Alex.

He had woken up that morning missing Alex desperately. Missing his face, his voice, his laugh, his words. But when, once again, no letter arrived, his anger tore through as he finally decided to face the cold hard truth that had been waiting in the back of his mind for weeks.

Their relationship had been going downhill for a long time and now the airman had clearly made the choice for the both of them. Alex had ended whatever it was they had going on and so now Michael would do the same.

That night he went to sleep, vowing to never think of Alex again, so painfully unaware that Alex, now with half a limb cruelly taken from him, had read the letters. In fact he'd read over every letter in his metal box, mourning the end of their relationship with each one.

Waking up in the hospital bed five months ago he'd seen his future. The future filled with therapy, physio, phantom pains, decreased mobility, the constant awkwardness from other people. And he refused to burden Michael with that. His beautiful cowboy deserved so much better.

Soon the letters would stop completely and Alex would accept that because why would Michael keep trying when he was receiving nothing in return? And maybe they’ll never see each other again and maybe they’ll never reconcile, but that would be okay because at least this way, Michael would be free.

December 2017

It was two weeks until Christmas and Isobel was on his case about a present. Why do you have to make my life difficult, Michael? You’re the only person I haven’t bought for, Michael. Can you find some actual hobbies so that I know what to get you, Michael?

The queen of organisation was getting very stressed at the mere thought of having to do any last minute shopping but how would Michael tell her what he really wanted for Christmas when obtaining it was impossible?

And yeah, yeah, he said he was going to stop thinking about him. But let’s be real, that was never going to happen.

Instead he drank. A lot. And gambled and hooked up with pretty girls and committed enough petty crime to make Max consider a very early retirement.

Anything to get his mind off Alex. But as blissful as the forgetting was in the night, it always came flooding back in the morning. Because every morning he woke up and stared at the compartment where the box was stored and every morning it reminded him of Alex. Well, no more.

Sitting on the edge of the bed as he tried to ignore the cold winter wind raging outside, he made the decision to move it. If he hid it away and promised himself that he would never look inside again then maybe, just maybe, he would finally move on.

Standing up was a choice he instantly regretted as the room spun slightly and the sun blaring in through the newspaper covered window immediately fuelled the hangover burning behind his eyes. But as soon as everything settled he wasted no time in opening the compartment and taking out the box.

His fingers were itching to lift up the lid and peek inside but that would only make it harder. Instead he clamped the sides tightly in his grip and headed straight for the closet.

It was ironic really, hiding Alex in the closet - a thought that only came to him as he was opening the door - but it was the only place in the tiny hamster cage of a home where it would be safe from prying eyes, Michael’s included.

There were a pair of boots at the bottom alongside some old clothes Max had given him years ago and a cardboard box of blueprints, photos and spaceship pieces he had yet to take to the junkyard.

He lifted them out easily and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor next to where he was kneeling - they had been shoved in the bottom of a closet for god knows how long, they could manage a bit of manhandling.

With the space now empty, the shoebox went in first, being pushed as far into the corner as possible before he gave himself the chance to change his mind. The larger box went back in next, taking up the remaining floor space, then the boots and bag of clothes were thrown in afterwards. As long as they didn’t fall out, he didn’t care where they landed.

As he closed the door his phone rang and looking at the caller ID the timing couldn’t have been more perfect as he’d finally thought of an idea for what Isobel could buy him.

Because why spend your own money to fuel your drinking habit when someone else could do it for you.

March 2018

Michael was shocked awake by a loud thump. Sitting up too quickly, scrambling to get his brain in gear, he noticed Max standing on the other side of the cage with a large pile of files on the desk in front of him. That explains what caused the rude awakening then.

“Thanks.” He groaned, lying back down on the metal bench. His head was thumping and he was not in the mood for the conversation that was bound to follow.

“Is this gonna be a regular thing with you?” Max asked as he took a seat at the desk. The chair scraped horribly on the floor and it made Michael wince.

He stared up at the ceiling and took a few breaths before talking. He didn’t normally feel this bad after drinking but he’d forgotten to grab a bottle of acetone before heading to the Pony and it had been a long night.

“I thought you wanted to spend more time together.” He replied impudently after a moment.

He heard Max sigh and could practically see him rolling his eyes.

“It’s not funny, Michael.”

“It’s a little funny.” He smirked, attempting to sit up again, groaning as it became clear how much his back hadn’t appreciated his drunk tank sleeping arrangements. Max didn’t even glance up at him from the file he was reading. “Right, are you gonna let me out or not?”

“Nope. Valenti’s just outside and she’ll know if I go easy on you.”

Michael scoffed and debated just lifting the keys from the desk with his powers. Why did Max have to be such a rule-following little Deputy? It was as if Max was the mind reader of the trio though as he grabbed the keys without looking and put them straight into his pocket.

“I’m just trying to help you.” Max gave him a pointed look that Michael just wanted to punch right off his face sometimes.

“Like always…” Michael muttered under his breath.

“I’m surprised Maria hasn’t barred you yet. You cause her more trouble than it’s worth.”

“The fight wasn’t even that bad, everyone just overreacted. Besides, the other guy totally started it.”

Max shook his head as he got back to his work. Michael wasn’t lying, he hadn’t started the fight, he had just been rather eager to join in. Sometimes punching things felt good.

Max was clearly not letting him out anytime soon and it was well before noon so no-one was expecting him to be at work for a good couple of hours. He could try to negotiate his freedom but Max had this whole save Michael from himself agenda going on recently so it would probably just be a waste of breath.

Instead he could take the easy route and catch up with a bit more sleep.

June 2018

“Quick Alex, run and tell your daddy.”

Michael instantly regretted his words the second the door had closed behind him.

But he hadn’t seen Alex in four years, hadn’t heard from him in months. He had every right to be angry. Right?

Except he wasn’t angry, not really, that was just a façade he was forcing forward to help protect himself from the heartache threatening to break through. He never could stay angry at Alex for long.

Looking through the shoebox filled him with a cautious kind of hope. Just because Alex was back didn’t mean anything was going to change between them but Michael just couldn’t help it.

He sat on the floor for a while as he read over some of the letters, his legs getting cramped in the small gap between the bed and the closet. He had forgotten how happy the earlier letters were, the ones sent before Alex had had a chance to experience combat. They had both been so young back then, so unaware of how life would turn out.

Once he was finished, he left the shoebox on his desk, feeling too nostalgic to put it back in the closet but not yet ready to commit to the overhead compartment again. Thoughts of Alex followed him well into the afternoon of the next day and they didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. Twenty-four hours since Alex had been standing right in front of him and he had completely fallen for the airman all over again.

But that couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let Alex in again. Not if it was just going to end the same way.

So when Alex approached him at the reunion, suggesting that he had turned his trailer into a meth lab, Michael did all he could to put the wall back up again. He was sarcastic and aggrieved and did his best to rile Alex up. You trying to hold my hand, Private?

And when he shoved past Alex he pretended to himself that it felt good.

But the heart wants what the hearts wants and all evening his eyes kept being drawn back to Alex. He barely noticed the girl at his side as he watched Alex smile politely and engage in conversation with people they had both gone to school with and when Alex ducked into a side room, he couldn’t stop his feet from following.

Watching Alex check his prosthetic broke Michael’s heart. He wanted to ask a million questions, how did it happen? When did it happen? Does it hurt? Are you okay? Alex was walking on it, albeit with a crutch, so it must have been at least a year since he was injured and Michael had been oblivious to it all. Although an entire year of unanswered letters were suddenly provided with a devastating explanation.

To lose a limb must be unimaginable, but whatever had caused it, Michael was just so glad that it hadn’t taken all of him.

He leaned against the doorway as his eyes roamed over every part of the man in front of him, taking him in completely. His beautiful face that Michael was desperate to put a smile on, his soft hair that had grown since he had last been home, the checkered shirt that looked so much more Alex than the uniform, the way he glowed under the coloured lights.

They had both been through so much this past decade but Alex was back, potentially for good this time, and Michael was about to dive headfirst into the possibility of them rekindling whatever it was they once had.

“Nostalgia’s a bitch, huh?” He spoke up, hoping beyond anything that Alex wouldn’t walk away. He allowed a gentle smile and when Alex dropped his leg to the floor and faced him properly, he felt his heartbeat quicken.

Alex took a moment to reply and when he did his face gave no hints as to whether he was happy to see Michael or not. “I thought for sure when I got back from Iraq you would be long gone.”

“Is that what you want?” Michael avoided eye contact, suddenly not wanting to witness the moment Alex turned him away but still, he walked closer.

“We’re not kids anymore.” Alex whispered, the words catching in his throat, and still Michael kept walking. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

They were so close to each other now, barely an arm’s length away from touching and the close proximity gave Michael all the courage he needed. He drew his longing gaze away from Alex’s eyes to his soft lips and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

One moment they were two separate people and the next they were crashing together like waves that had been parted for an eternity.

Michael’s entire body tingled, the feeling of Alex’s palm on his back, Alex’s lips against his own. He was hardly aware of what his hands were doing, cupping Alex’s face and pulling him closer, hungry and intense and desperate to reclaim what they had lost. He barely breathed as the rest of the world fell away until it was just them in their intimate, almost forbidden, moment.

His anger at Alex and his year long desire to banish any thought of him was long forgotten. He was back, he was here and Michael didn’t ever want to let go.

As they parted, foreheads still touching, Michael couldn’t bear to take his eyes off the man in front of him, convinced that if he closed his eyes for even a second it would all disappear. The moment was so perfect, part of him felt like he was dreaming.

Their relationship over the past decade had been a complete rollercoaster but now, feeling Alex pressed against him, Michael was convinced that things would be different now.

And maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

The End.

Thank you for reading ❤️✨

#malexsanta #malexsanta2020 #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #michael guerin fic #malex fic #my fic

44 notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Hexes and Honeysuckle (One) (Winteriron)

Welcome to the story! Time for some witchy shenanigans! I think this will be five-ish chapters but me and @livewire28 decided I would just start writing and see where it ends up!

HEXES AND HONEYSUCKLE MASTERLIST HERE

*****************

Just along the highway where the woods are extra thick and the road seems to narrow, where the mountains loom tall in every direction and waterfalls pour into the river basin, where wildlife watch with curious, unafraid eyes and the trees stretch towards an endlessly blue sky, just there where the turns get twisty and the forest creeps closer to the asphalt with every foot traveled, just here when a driver is sure they took a wrong turn and the GPS is absolutely lying when it says the car is within a hundred yards of the destination, just as soon as they are ready to turn around and spend hours driving back to civilization and give up on what was supposed to be a lovely little jaunt in the countryside to find a little shop with the best beeswax candles on the Eastern seaboard--

-- that’s when a sign appears in the shrubbery, half obscured by the flowering vines and painted in faded colors.

“Welcome to Everwinter” the sign says, or perhaps in the warmer months it says, “Welcome to Somerlast” and in the fall when the apples are ripe and ready to eat it might say “Welcome to Autumvale” but no matter the arrangement of letters, the traveler is always grateful and pleasantly surprised to find the name of the town is perfectly set to alleviate their previously dark mood.

At last they’ve found what they are looking for.

A quick turn onto a poorly marked road leads to a few moments of bouncing down dirt paths and rattling across not one but two rocky creek beds, and then quite suddenly there is the most beautiful little town anyone could ever hope to see, a hidden gem that might have been plucked from the English countryside or stolen from the best days of Southern summers, or spirited away from the golden days along the coast.

The store fronts along main street are all vaguely familiar but not quite modern enough to be the shops found in the city, every car cruising along the stretch of fading asphalt is a model of nostalgia, reminding the visitor of that rebuilt Mustang from the summer after high school, or the rag top convertible from the night of prom, the truck that was always a to-do project buried in the garage and the Jeep with mud from a half dozen spring breaks still on the tires.

Nostalgia blooms fragrant alongside pretty, populous flowers anyone and if the person is so inclined to travel a ways down the wide set sidewalks of the little town, if the motorist really has come all this way to find those beeswax candles their sister in law prattled on about for a solid hour over last month’s tedious family dinner?

Well those particular candles can be found in the shop called “Magic and Magnolias”, set on display on the third shelf from the door, right next to an assortment of floral perfumes, cough drops made from golden honey and doilies tatted of astonishingly delicate silk.

“Magic and Magnolias” is owned by a peculiar pair of women, both red heads, both shockingly beautiful, both unorthodox in dress and manner and visitors to the shop were always unfailingly charmed by one of the women, and slightly unsettled by the other. The experience varied from person to person, from meeting to meeting, which redhead was the more charming, which looked like she might gobble you up if given the chance, but everyone agreed the owners were quirky to say the least.

Natasha Romanoff dressed as if she’d just come from a Renaissance fair or stepped from the pages of a book of Regency era fashion. She was particularly, purposefully made up in full gown and bustle, a corset and intricate hairstyle, silk stockings and button hook boots. The women was clearly ancient though her skin was set like porcelain, the ink on her collarbone inscribed with a Black Widow’s mark, the rings on her finger stacked so the inscribed words all read one sentence in a language no one could possibly read.

No one else besides the Dame Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts that is, seeing as how her rings were writ in the same text and script. That was where the similarities ended between the two though-- with their sunset colored hair and odd taste in jewelry.

Where Natasha was tiny, Pepper was taller than most. Where Natasha wore her fashions from an era bygone, Pepper believed in cut off denim shorts and half unbuttoned dress shirts. Natasha’s hair would have taken a mere mortal hours to accomplish, Pepper wore hers loose or gathered into a bejewled clip and together the women presented a beautiful, beguiling mystery to any and all patrons of ‘Magic and Magnolias’, whether the patrons were there for a candle or taffy, or for another service altogether.

It wasn’t only vintage jewelry and curious knick knacks offered in the darling little shop, neither were all patrons that stepped foot through the doors in search of something physical. In a twist of fate that happened only in places like this, only where the forest converged so thick someone could hear the trees breathing, not all visitors to the shop were strictly human, and not all oddities sold from behind the counter were strictly known.

And the not-human visitors seeking not-known items were fully aware the ladies Natasha and Pepper were not mere ladies at all, but instead bore the title and responsibilities of two of the most powerful witches known to the surviving covens.

And what were two near deities to do with lifetimes of knowledge and endless hours when they weren’t selling trinkets to tourists?

Matchmaking, of course.

“We need to do something about Tony, darling.” Natasha mentioned one morning as the sun came refracted and colorful through the myriad of stained glass wind chimes along their porch. “Do you know he’s come back again?”

“I was not aware.” Pepper idly turned a page in her book and reached for one of the raspberry white chocolate scones, pausing for a split second so Natasha could break the other half off for her own plate. “I have to say I’m surprised Tiberius rejected him though. That witch needs a familiar badly and Tony is half desperate to get relieve the hex you’d think they would try everything to make the situation work. If anyone could teach that cat humility it would be someone like Ty.”

“Learning humility is not the same as being humiliated.” Natasha countered and Pepper mm-hmm’d in agreement. “I’d hoped Tony’s sarcasm would bring Ty down a notch or two and in the same motion force Tony to re-evaluate his approach to disagreements but I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Is this the report of grievance?” Pepper reached for her lover’s notebook and scanned the contents, her pretty mouth dropping open in shock. “Oh no. Ty says ‘the familiar brought me gifts in the form of dead birds, then waited until I was sleeping to drop them on my face’. Anthony Edward Stark--!”

The next scone burned a little around the edges when Pepper’s power flexed in the air. “--I swear, if Peggy hadn’t cursed his obstinate butt, I would have done it myself!”

“For all your power and the way our magic combines, not even you not I are enough to bind a witch to the familiar form.” Natasha replied dryly. “And Peggy’s curse is so beautifully simple-- bound to familiar until Tony learns humility and empathy. It should not take several years and all our best attempts at matchmaking to teach that mangy cat a lesson.”

“He’s not mangy.” Pepper laughed softly. “Peggy was kind enough to at least give him to a Persian form, something with beautiful hair and gorgeous eyes like Tony had been when he was human. She could have bound him as a toad, you know.”

“Well maybe if Peggy had bound the brat as a toad, humility would have been a lesson learned the first time he had to eat a fly.” Natasha adjusted one of the jeweled combs in her hair and sighed over loud. “This is the third broken contract since Spring Solstice, Pepper. I think it’s going to affect our perfect matchmaking streak if it continues.”

“Pairing a witch and familiar isn’t about a perfect match making streak, my love.” Pepper corrected reproachfully. “Besides you know the natural order of these things-- witches and familiars are meant to find each other alone, to soul bond and amplify the others magic naturally. Those who need a matchmaking service are either heartbroken and grieving after a lost bond or have something honestly wrong with them and can’t be matched alone. We can’t be too surprised if even our help doesn’t work.”

“I know, I know.” Natasha broke off another piece of scone and swirled it idly through a cream cheese glaze. “So what are we going to do about Tony, then?”

“Well I was thinking--”

“You know, I came across a witch the other day who could use our help but is infinitely too stubborn to admit it.” Pepper raised her eyebrows in surprise when Natasha interrupted her, but stayed quiet and motioned for her partner to continue. “Bucky Barnes, do you know the name?”

“I am not familiar, no. New to town, is he?”

“He’s from the Lehigh Coven.” Natasha explained in a hushed tone, and Pepper’s face first cleared in recognition, then crumpled in understanding. “I was under the impression there were no survivors at Lehigh, but apparently there is at least one. He has taken over the cottage in the far clearing a few miles out of town.”

“Poor dear.” Pepper clicked her tongue sympathetically. “He must be terribly scarred after surviving a tragedy like that.”

“Obviously.”

"And his magic is affected by the trauma?”

“As expected.” The other witch nodded in affirmation. “When I met him I could only sense a faint aura of magic around him, I’d say he’s damn close to human if he doesn’t start nurturing his powers. It’s been known to happen, a witch to fall out of practice and expire towards mortal.”

“That would be a shame, there aren’t many of us left.” Pepper pursed her lips, steepled her fingers as she thought through the new information. “Is he old enough to have learned many of our ways or to have ever had his own familiar?”

“No.” Natasha mirrored Pepper’s posture purely out of habit, decades and decades with each other lending a sense of similarity to every motion they made. “No, no he’s young Pep. Actually young too, not young in the way that you have seen several less centuries than I have. I don’t know how old he was when the Lehigh Coven fell but it hasn’t been all that long, so I doubt he’s celebrated his first centennial yet. He needs a well established familiar that can help his magic grow in the most basic steps before amplifying it like the bond is meant to do.”

“But Tony is not a well established familiar.” Pepper pointed out immediately. “He’s not even technically a familiar. He is a two hundred year old witch who pissed off his auntie, who happens to be the most powerful sorceress our guild has ever known. We should not unleash his level of snark on a survivor of the Lehigh Coven.”

“We should.” Natasha disagreed. “Because someone like Bucky would force Tony to stop being so self centered. And having a familiar with Tony’s amount of knowledge could bring even the most inexperienced witch several decades forward in training in a short amount of time.”

“Natasha, Tony insulted a witch so badly last fall they actually set his tail on fire.”

Natasha hid a smile in the palm of her hand. “Well you know what they say about opposites, Pep.”

“That they never work? Ever?” Pepper’s green eyes flashed like lightning, annoyance wrinkling her perfect brow. “Witches and familiars have to match, not be odd couples. It won’t work and I refuse to subject Bucky to one of Tony’s bad moods. The child lived through Lehigh, he shouldn’t have to live through two hundred years worth of power and spite condensed into a fifteen pound hairball. That’s not fair.”

“Well Bucky needs someone.” Natasha had clearly made up her mind, gold ink already self inscribing across the top of parchment set on their breakfast table. “And we are running out of options for Tony. If he doesn’t find a witch to match with soon, his hex will run its course and he will be trapped to the familiar forever. That isn’t fair either.”

“Tasha--”

“When we took on the mantle of matchmaking, we swore a duty to help everyone, my love.” Natasha interrupted again. “Bucky’s situation is not his fault, and even though Tony’s is certainly his own fault--”

“--he shouldn’t have sassed Peggy so much--”

“-- that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.” Natasha finished. “We will make it a strict contract, set a number on the amount of grievances they may file against each other, set a behavioral constraint on Tony and a time limit so if either simply cannot handle the adjustment or if the bond hasn’t set within a reasonable amount of time, it can be dissolved with no issue.”

“Bucky doesn’t deserve to have Tony hack up hairballs in his milk every day!” Pepper insisted. “You and I know Tony isn’t so much mean as he is mischievous, but we’ve had two hundred years to learn his ways. Someone new would not appreciate his particular brand of high maintenance hijinks.”

Natasha snatched the list of grievances from Ty back and read through them one more time. “My god, Tony really did hack up hairballs in Ty’s milk every day, didn’t he? That is hilarious.”

“Tasha.”

“Hilariously terrible.” the witch amended, and bared her teeth in a teasing smile to her love. “Be honest Pep, you are at least twice as vengeful as me beneath that sweet disposition, you’d curdle that bastard’s milk too if you had the chance.”

“I’d certainly curdle something of his.” Pepper agreed with a little sniff. “I’m not saying I am on board yet, but before any other decisions are made we need to talk about a possible romance between Bucky and Tony, don’t you think? Sharing magic and powers and occasionally one awareness naturally leads to sexual tension and most witch-familiar pairings move between their forms to indulge that urge together. But Tony is bound to the familiar so…”

“...so we don’t have to worry about he and Bucky indulging any sort of urge in that manner.” Natasha made a face. “Don’t even think about it, Pep. Tony can’t return to his human form until the hex is broken, so as far as Bucky is concerned he is simply a cat. Once the curse lifts, Tony will no longer have the familiar spirit, so any bond they have forged will naturally dissipate and they will go separate ways.”

“We have never written a matchmaking contract with out at least a warning about potential romantic entanglements.”

“We’ve also never written a matchmaking contract between two witches where one of them is cursed to be furry and four legged for the entirety of the bond.” Natasha argued back. “It’s a non essential matter in this situation, Pep. If they decide to pursue a romantic entanglement after the curse is broken, that is entirely up to them.”

“And um--” Natasha hesitated, drummed her fingers on the table. “-- I don’t think it will be an issue then, either.”

Natasha cocked a curious eyebrow and the other witch explained, “Bucky survived Lehigh but he didn’t survive... whole.” she made a motion over the left side of her body, and Pepper’s beautiful eyes dimmed in sympathy. “A witch hurt to those extremes usually focuses all their power simply on healing, usually their magic never grows beyond the bounds of simply surviving. And since Tony is Tony--”

“--romance would be very far from Bucky’s mind, and Tony has never stayed with anyone longer than it took for him to get off and get cleaned up.” Pepper finished. “So even if Tony wasn’t bound as a cat, there would be little to no interest on either parties side.”

“Not that Bucky isn’t gorgeous in a brooding, murdery type of way.” Natasha hastened to add. “Despite his injury and scars if I wasn’t so in love with you I’d be tempted to--”

“NATASHA!”

“--set him up with another of our witch friends.” Pepper huffed when Natasha only winked at her. “But no. I think with Tony being stuck feline and Bucky needing every bit of energy and magic to heal... no. No need for a warning about potential romance.”

“Mm-hmm.” Pepper crumbled up another piece of scone between her fingers and idly licked the crumbs off her thumb. “And if Tony projects himself into Bucky’s dreams in human form?”

“Darling, it took me almost three hundred years to learn how to dream walk along someone else’s consciousness.” Natasha waved away the suggestion. “Tony spent two hundred years worth of training crafting aphrodisia potions and making things go boom. He cannot dream walk and even if he could, he’d use it to cause mayhem and you damn well know it.”

“Mm-hmm.” Pepper said again, and Natasha prodded at her love with the tip of her boot, urging, “You know it’s a good idea, Pep. Could even be one of our finest matches.”

“I don’t know about that, I like to think our finest match was done the morning I woke up with you in my bed.” Pepper gave it another moments thought and then nodded. “Fine. Call Bucky in and I’ll get Tony. We’ll draw up a contract and set the two of them together and--” she blew out a deep breath. “--see what happens?”

“That’s my girl.” Natasha leaned over the table to press a long kiss to Pepper’s lips. “So young and still so wise.”

“So young.” Pepper snorted before waving the other witch away. “I’ve practically aged a half millenia by now.”

“Oh beauty, you are not a day over two hundred.” Natasha promised. “Not a day.”

***************

“Article six: Witches are not to use their familiar-amplified powers to cause trouble.” Natasha read through the contract quickly, knowing full well that Tony had heard these rules at least a dozen times by now and even if Bucky had never heard them, most of the guidelines were common sense for any educated witch. “The familiar-amplified powers are meant to be used in the pursuit of knowledge, in the guarantee of safety for their family and loved ones and only in the most necessary of times, for defense.”

“Oooh yes, I’d very much like an excuse to throw fireballs at someone again, been a while since I got to make anything go boom.” It was thoroughly disconcerting to hear such a human voice from such a cat...cat and when Tony spoke up from his seat on the most comfortable chair in the room, three witches swiveled to look at him, one gaze curious, the other two scandalized. “Oh stop that, like you haven’t ever set someone’s butt on fire just to hear them scream.”

Tony arched his back in a languorous stretch and then flopped back onto the cushion. “Pep I fully remember that one solstice where Sunset irritated the dickens out of you and you lit the old bag up like--”

“Article Seven!” Pepper interrupted quickly, and Tony gave her the cat version of a snarky grin. “Any complaints or grievances filed must be valid issues and submitted in writing to the match makers.” Pepper pointed to herself, and then to Natasha. “The familiar cannot go out of their way to cause mischief, Tony, and neither can the witch make life exceedingly difficult for their familiar. Frivolous complaints or clearly purposefully malicious acts will be taken as a breach of contract and discipline and/or changes to the arrangement will be meted out as necessary.”

Bucky read through his coordinating contract slowly, mouthing the words along with Pepper and stealing the occasional glance over towards the familiar he was supposed to bond with.

“See something you like?” the cat challenged when he caught Bucky staring, and the witch answered before he caught himself, retorting, “Just thinkin’ you look like someone who gets mice brought to them instead’a doing the hunting yourself.”

Electric blue eyes widened in surprise, Pepper muffled a quiet laugh into her palm and Tony stuttered a few times, then insisted, “I don’t catch mice, I’m not actually a cat! Do you think I’m actually a cat?” and then to Natasha, “He thinks I’m actually a cat! How many cats do you know that talk?!”

“Thankfully, just the one.” Natasha replied calmly and went back to reading, “Article Eight. A familiar’s human form is never a required presence regardless of what the witch might request or demand. The human form is known only to the familiar and those they trust and once shared, the witch must guard the familiar’s identity with their very life.”

“So…” Bucky glanced again at the lovely feline, at the blue grey fur and star tingly intelligent eyes blinking back at him. “So if Tony decides to show me his human form…?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Tony cut in, flicking his tail irritably when Pepper tried to talk over him. “You won’t ever see my human form and if you do, you’ll only catch the briefest glimpse of my finely toned tuchus as I get the hell out of here. Article Eight doesn’t apply to this situation, keep talking please.”

“Article Nine.” Pepper kept reading and Tony quit pretending to listen, choosing instead to take a closer look at this next witch Pepper and Natasha seemed to think would be the one to finally teach him a lesson in humility and empathy.

In another life, in a human life, Tony would have thought the witch was attractive. He had a type or two or dozen when it came to lovers, and while one of those types was deceptively dangerous redheads with astonishing powers, one of the other types was hulking and broody and intense in a way that usually meant murder and mayhem and whoo did this particular witch check all those boxes.

In another, human life Tony would have overlooked the missing arm and most likely been fascinated by the scars peeking out at Bucky’s shirt collar, he would have bought the witch a drink and pushed him into bed for a night of sparks and literal magic because sex was good between witches.

But in this life he was cursed to familiar which meant the witch Bucky mattered only enough to try and break his hex and as Tony looked the big brunette over, his heart sank a little bit more with each passing moment.

How could such an obviously new witch help him with this?

“Article Ten.” Pepper cleared her throat. “If Tony isn’t listening to these rules I’ll add in something that will guarantee he is afflicted with hiccups every day for the entirety of the contract--”

“I’m listening!” the familiar snapped, and in the other chair Bucky snorted a quiet laugh. “I’m listening! Just get on with it, I’m hungry and it’s about time to test ol’ Buckaroo’s cooking skills. Hop to it, ladies.”

“Bucky.” Pepper rolled up the contract and tied it with a twist of golden string. “I apologize for Tony, he’s an asshole but let’s be honest, we’d all be terrible if we were cursed to be a cat, hm?”

“Cursed, huh?” Bucky raised curious eyebrows but Tony just looked away, not sure if he could handle pity from someone he didn’t plan on knowing very long. “Why are you cursed, bud?”

“I sassed my Auntie.” Tony flexed his claws into the antique upholstery. “Can we get going? Seriously, I feel a hairball coming on.”

“You’re the worst.” Natasha informed the bratty familiar. “Do either of you have any questions?”

“Well…” Bucky tapped the contract against his palm a few times and shrugged awkwardly, only his right shoulder moving with the motion. “Truth be told I’m not much of a cat person. You got a dog anywhere around here?”

Tony’s bright eyes went comically wide and he stuck his nose in the air to announce, “Alright, I think I’d like to file my first complaint!”

“Noted and ignored.” Pepper stood up, then turned to help Natasha with all her skirts to stand as well. “You are both free to go, and we look forward to hearing updates as your relationship progresses.”

“Thank you.” Bucky got up stiffly, and Tony peered a little closer at the witch, cataloguing the flicker of pain across Bucky’s face and the way his left shoulder hung so low, his neck stiff. He was clearly hurting and Tony wondered why the hell Bucky didn’t use a simple pain relief charm to fix it. “You uh-- you coming, kitty?”

“Oh, you’re the sorta gent to let me come first?” Tony sassed, watching with no small amount of amusement as the witch blinked at him first in confusion and then in horrified realization.

“Tony!”

“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name.” Tony leapt lightly off the seat and twitched his full tail at the lady witches in succession. “I’m sure I’ll see you both again in a week. Not sure how high my hopes are for this particular endeavor.”

“Behave.” Natasha bent down and scooped Tony up into her arms, looking the cat right in the eyes as she demanded. “I’m serious, Tony. This might be your last chance to break Peggy’s curse so for the love of all that is holy please behave. Please.”

“This corset pushes your bosoms right up to your chin.” A little paw darted out and smacked at Natasha’s chest. “How are you even breathing right now?”

“We will talk later about how weird it is for a feline to be commenting on my breasts.” the witch sighed. “But for right now I need you to listen.”

“Tasha--”

“Tony.” she shook the familiar a little and Tony’s ears went back, his lips curling in annoyance. “My love, I don’t want to see you trapped like this anymore and beyond that, I know you are close to your breaking point, I know you are ready to give up and condemn yourself to this life because it seems impossible to change.”

The cat went quiet and Natasha drew a very careful finger down his nose. “Be nice to this one, Tony. Bucky’s story is not mine to tell, but you need to be nice.”

“I’ll--” Tony forced out a sigh. “I’ll be nice.”

“Promise me you will be a normal version of nice and not your patented ‘I love you so I pranked you’ version of nice.” she insisted and the familiar meowed in reluctant agreement, then promptly decided, “You’re a spoilsport, Tasha.”

“And you are an actual menace.” She set Tony back on the ground and blew a kiss towards Bucky. “Go well with you, darling.”

“Go well.” Pepper repeated. “And if you need anything, do not hesitate to come and visit.”

“Thank you.” Bucky put a hair to his shoulder length hair when it wafted in a breeze of magic from the other witches. “For trying to help me. Sure do appreciate it.”

“He talks like a good ol’ boy.” Tony whispered up to Natasha, and she gave him a swift light kick in the butt so he’d shut up. “Ow! I didn’t say that was a bad thing! Quit kicking me!”

“Tony darling.” Pepper crouched down and scratched her fingers into the cat’s thick fur, ruffling it up one way and then smoothing it back down carefully. “Listen and listen well. You learn your lesson this time around, or I promise by Medusa I will shave you bald and weave myself a Persian rug from your fur, do you understand?”

Tony turned his back on the witch, kicking out with his back paws like he was throwing dirt at her, then stalked away towards the front door, not pausing to see whether or not Bucky was coming along too.

“Guess I better go after him before he figures out he’s gotta walk the two miles to the house.” Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Thank you, ladies. Ma’ams. Dunno why Tony’s willin’ to get stuck with a know nothin’ witch like me but I’ll try real hard to make it work.”

“You’ll do just fine.” Pepper wound her fingers through Natasha’s and tugged her love in close to her side. “And if you need anything... ?”

“I’ll come by.” Bucky flashed them a shy, charming smile that had both the women hmm’ing in interest, then ducked out the door of Magic and Magnolias and went to find his familiar.

“This was the right decision.” Pepper said quietly, hesitantly. “Right?”

“Too late to back out of it now.” Natasha sounded more confident than she felt. “They will be a good match. There is a depth to Bucky that will surprise Tony as they get to know each other, and despite his sass and general ridiculousness, Tony has too soft a heart to ignore someone so clearly in need. They will be fine.”

“Tony's heart has changed much in the last century.” Pepper whispered doubtfully. “He is no longer the sweet child we watched grow up.”

“His heart is hidden now, yes.” Natasha agreed after a moment. “The loss of Jarvis and then Peggy’s curse hardened him to the world, but it wouldn’t change his heart, not Tony. He is still good and still sweet. They’ll be fine.”

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.” the other witch finally relented. “Perhaps we’ll send Bucky some honeysuckle starters, don’t you think? To ward against spirits of doubt and any future hexes?”

“Isn’t Tony allergic to honeysuckle?”

“Only enough to make him sneeze.” Pepper’s smile was nearly devilish. “And who can resist kitten sneezes? I’ll deliver it tomorrow morning at sunrise.”

“You think sneezes will be a good start to the witch-familiar bond?” Natasha laughed at her love and stood on her toes for a kiss. “Is that your devious matchmaking plan?”

“Nothing devious about it.” Pepper protested innocently. “But no one can hear Tony sneeze and not think he’s adorable, and that’s usually a good start to this sort of thing.”

“Sneezing?”

“No, thinking Tony is adorable.”

“Ah, well then yes. I completely agree. Honeysuckle it is.”

*******************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

ASK TO BE TAGGED IN THE FIC!

*******************

@itsdisapointmentasmrworld @luvstruckscum @thanossucks @nanita90a @firelightmystic @ravynfyre @i-am-worth-it-25 @theshipinspector @vampiregirl1797 @dayzor @schalabi422 @yomama-umbridge

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #witch au #magic au #pepper potts #natasha romanoff #witch!Bucky #familiar!tony

158 notes · View notes

sleekervae · 3 years

Text

The Neighbour [0.3]

Something was irrevocably different with Remington; Emerson picked it off right away. On an early Tuesday afternoon, with the air thick and humid and the sun beating down like a plague (no pun intended), Remington was fussing over himself more than usual. He had changed out of four or five different outfits, playing with his hair, and was it appropriate for him to wear makeup? Eva hadn't seen him with it on, yet. No, it was probably best to keep it casual for now. Then again, he had a fantastic highlight that worked absolute magic under the sun...

It was around eleven thirty when Remington finally came down, dressed down but still presentable in a simple pair of ripped skinny jeans and a t-shirt. Emerson and Shy were sat on the couch as they watched Netflix, Pepper situated between them. Remington stopped short when he saw the pair cuddled up on the couch, he smiled deviously.

"Eugh! You guys are so flippin' cute it's gross!" he gushed, putting on his diva voice.

Shy chuckled softly, "Hi Rem,"

Emerson's attention diverted to his older brother, intrigued to see him all ready to go out somewhere.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Coffee with Eva," Remington replied simply.

"The neighbour with the cat?" Shy said.

"Yeah," Remington nodded, "Emerson tell you she gave us a loaf of bread last week?"

"He did," she smiled, "Poor thing, I felt for her. She looked so flustered at the pool,"

"Well, moving is a bitch already. Throw in Covid 19 and you got a real thorn in the ass," Emerson said, then turning back to his brother, "You gonna' be social distancing?"

"We're going to drink our coffee and walk around in the park," Remington replied, "She works from home anyway,"

"So, who asked who for the coffee?" Emerson asked.

Remington shrugged, stopping at the hallway mirror to fix his hair again, "She brought up how she hasn't had a chance to get around the neighbourhood, so I offered, she accepted. She has our vinyl too,"

"Which one?" Emerson asked.

"Boom Boom Room,"

"Side A or B?"

"A,"

"I'd approve either way,"

Shy couldn't help but subconsciouly squeeze Emerson's arm, a glimmer of excitement bursting behind her eyes, "So, she's a fan, too?"

"Took her a minute to figure it out. Didn't even bring up Em or Seb, so clearly she pays more attention to me," the blonde smirked.

Emerson glowered at his brother, "Yeah, yeah, go for your cup of fuck-off-ee," he grumbled.

Across the street, with her room strewn in discarded clothes that just didn't make the cut, Eva finally felt confident standing in her denim skirt and black tee. On any other day she'd have paired the ensemble with her pleather jacket, but it was too damn hot out. Even with the window letting in a cool breeze, the air was uncomfortably humid. What did she expect when moving from the Emerald City to Los Angeles?

Eva made sure to close and latch the window shut before she left, not eager for Pluto to go off on another reign of terror. Stopping to grab a fresh face mask, her phone suddenly began to vibrate in her purse. She figured it might have been Remington sending her a text, but the screen flashed to the Blocked Caller ID. Eva rolled her eyes and denied the call.

Stepping out into the humidity, Eva waved her hand over her face as she stepped out of the complex courtyard, just at the same time Remington was locking the door to his house. As soon as she caught his eye, he was all smiles.

She was glad to see him; a little relieved, even. He looked cool, cool enough to appear on some grungy magazine cover. All he needed to complete the look was a cigarette and maybe a skateboard, too. The messy blonde hair, the glimmer in his eyes brought back the warmth she associated with his presence and as she came to meet him at his car, his spicy cologne danced up her nose and imprinted itself in her olfactory memory.

Remington had never been more wary of how his hands shook, his left hand he stuffed into his jean pocket and the right he gripped his car keys with a vice-esque grip. He found himself mesmerized briefly by the fit of her skirt, her black t-shirt tucked in smoothly but not too tight to over expose her figure, but just enough to give Remington an idea. Her short brown hair fell delicately over her face, one side pushed back behind her ears and exposing her stormy blue eyes to the sunshine. She was the embodiment of innocence and grunge wrapped into a perfect five-foot-six package.

"Glad you didn't stand me up," he grinned.

"Well, I kind of happen to live right over there," she drawled, pointing to her balcony, "It'd be kind of awkward and hard to hide if I tried,"

"You look really nice," he nodded after a brief moment.

"So do you," she agreed with confidence, "Where we off to?"

There was a forested park not far from where they lived. Despite the pandemic, the fields were filled with older kids playing games of soccer and basketball, there were vendors out trying to sell their ice cream, a couple girls were scattered across the grass and sunbathing. It almost all seemed so normal, if not for the fact that the kid's jungle gym had been fenced off so no child could climb upon it.

The pair walked side-by-side, him with his iced black coffee and her with a green tea frapp -- no whipping cream. The gravel path they walked was shaded by a canopy of lush green trees, providing some relief from the hammering heat. Remington kept his gaze locked on her, worried to miss a moment where she'd crack a smile or briefly run her tongue over her lips. Her fingers appeared so dainty yet he could spot the small calluses at the middle joint of her thumb, and some paper cuts on her middle and index fingers.

"So, how does a ghostwriter get hired?" Remington asked, "Do you just openly advertise 'hey! If you're a lazy author, come hire me'?"

"No," Eva shook her head with a giggle, "I used to write articles for the newsletter at my college, and then a friend of mine forwarded me an email about a client who was looking for a ghostwriter. I didn't know much about it but the money was pretty good. It was a grant application for requesting financial aid for survivors of residential schools,"

"Sounds depressing," Remington said.

"It was pretty heavy shit," Eva admitted, "But, I did get fifteen-hundred for a six page application. Well worth it, I'd say,"

Remington blew an impressed whistle, "So you make pretty good money off of this?"

"Let's just say my student debt has decreased significantly since I took up the profession," and she took a brief sip of her drink.

"You ever publish anything under your own name?" he asked, "Eva Kuznetsov is a cute pen name. Evelina sounds more mature, though..."

Eva shrugged, "I think about it sometimes... but it's just easier to write under someone else's name and let them have all the glory. Say, if they happen to do something stupid to forever tarnish their career, that won't come back to bite me in the ass,"

Remington smirked, "Like a particular fantasy author who's made some pretty heavy comments concerning the trans community?"

"Let's not even talk about that, my heart still breaks when I think about it," Eva sighed, "To answer your question, however, if I got confident enough I may try to publish something in the future,"

"What else do you like to write?"

Eva opened her mouth but closed it quickly, pressing together her petunia pink lips as she visibly swallowed whatever words were about to pass through them. When she looked up at Remington again, his brown eyes dark like soaked coffee grinds that sent her into a caffeinated headrush. What would he think if she actually told him...

"I write poems, some short stories," she somewhat lied.

Remington's smile grew wider, mischief glimmering over his face like light beams reflecting over windchimes in a saturated dusk, "You hesitated just now," he spoke curiously, "What else do you write?"

Eva glanced down at the ground, a nervous giggle bubbling out and knocking the air out of her lungs, "Okay listen, don't judge me, it's just a hobby of mine,"

"Oh God!" Remington gasped, "Do you write porn?"

Eva laughed again, her pale cheeks flushing in red, "Well... I do happen write some naughty shit... in my fanfictions,"

Remington stopped dead in his tracks, taken aback by her answer. He totally thought she would say something along the lines of erotic fiction on a platform like Literotica. For understandable reasons, he had some mixed emotions about fanfictions.

"What kind of fanfiction?" he asked, somewhat bordering on the third degree.

"... Um..." she glanced at him again, the smirk on his lips compelling more giggles to burst from hers. She pressed her hands together over her nose and mouth, and Remington laughed as well.

"Okay listen, I promise," he put his right hand over his chest, "I promise I will not judge you for whatever smut you write for whoever," he assured her.

"It's not... yeah, I guess it kind of is," Eva chuckled nervously, "I usually write for stuff like Criminal Minds, but more lately I've gotten into writing for Euphoria..." she trailed off, timid as she waited for his response.

"Alright, that's actually not bad," he nodded, "I'll be honest, you didn't strike me as somebody who write fanfics,"

Eva glanced timidly at her scuffed sneakers, kicking up pebbles and dust, "Are fanfic writers supposed to look a certain way?"

"I don't know, actually," he simpered.

"I don't tell a lot of people that I do it, mainly because their first impression is either 'what the fuck' or 'OMG we should collaborate' and I'm just like," she hung her head back, "Nooo!"

"You're more of a soloist then a team player, then?" he teased.

"Let's just say I tend to work better alone," she replied, shrugging her shoulders as though the comment should mean nothing. But Remington found it odd that Eva was out here all on her own, never brought up her friends or family. He didn't see many personal effects in her apartment, neither.

"Is that why you're out here by yourself?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"Well... don't take this the wrong way, but I haven't really seen you with anybody. You don't talk about your friends or your family,"

Eva shrugged again, "They're all back in Seattle. Besides, opportunity was drying up over there and I just wanted a fresh start," she said, "Besides, Pluto's my friend,"

"Well, that's a given," he replied, "Are your parents up in Seattle?"

"My dad is," she nodded, "I don't know what my mom's doing," Remington's silent was her cue to go on, "I um... we haven't really spoken, her and I,"

"You have a falling out?" he asked suddenly.

Eva glared down at the gravel again, "You can call it that. She's a pilot and she's always flying, and so you know, I never really got to see much of her growing up. And then, she suddenly shows up for my college graduation and expects us to be one big happy family, like she has it in her head that she can make up for all the birthdays and shit she's missed. And I just didn't know what to say to her. I don't know who she is, but she's my mom," she glanced up at Remington again, "And I don't know why I'm telling you all of this,"

Remington wasn't bothered by her unloading, it seemed as though Eva needed to get things off her chest more than she realized. Her smile was sardonic and her voice petty like a comedian on stage, putting on the brave 'I don't give a fuck anymore' face.

"I find sometimes it's easier to unload to new people then it is to your friends," he said, "What does your dad do?"

"Chem professor. Which is ironic because I seriously sucked at chemistry," she replied.

"Show me a kid who didn't struggle in chem, honestly," he said, "But do you get along with your dad?"

"For the most part," she chuckled, "He's still confused as to why I choose to write anonymously, but that's his problem. What do your parents do?"

Remington chewed on the inside of his cheek, "My mom's kind of like our manager. Does a lot of production and behind the scenes stuff. And I haven't seen my dad for nearly twenty years,"

Eva was silent for a moment, studying him. He spoke with a firm grin, yet still trying to shadow that flicker of sadness within his face.

"So we both have parental issues... that's nice to know," she put on a teasing grin, "Maybe that's why we make such good friends?"

Remington swallowed thickly, "So, you are indeed confirming we are friends?"

"I am," she smiled, "It'd be nice to have whatever few I can scrape up,"

"That fact that you also live across the street means that you're now stuck with me," Remington grinned with pride.

"True," Eva hummed appreciatively, taking another sip of her drink, "Somehow, I don't think I'll mind, though,"

When Remington drove her home she gave him a sweet and polite goodbye, a hug which made his confident exterior falter for a second long enough for her to witness it through the flush in his cheeks and his lack of response. His words tripped over the length of his tongue when he tried to flush out a proper goodbye and he felt his hands began to quiver again.

And when he went to open his door, he took one last glance. The small brunette turned at the same time and met his gaze, but he was too far away to hear her sharp inhale. And when he finally went inside he fall back against the door, staring into space with the biggest grin he'd had on since... well, he couldn't remember when he last felt so excited.

#remington leith #Remington Leith imagine #palaye royale #Palaye Royale imagine #Palaye Royale fic #sebastian danzig #emerson barrett #boy bands #band imagines #band imagine blog #original story #original female character

33 notes · View notes

shining-red-diamond · 3 years

Text

Shallow Waters (Part II)

Words: 1.6k

Pairing: Hendery x Brittany (OC)

Rating: PG-15

Genre: fluff, some angst

Warnings: mentions of abandonment and homelessness, brief partial nudity (nothing graphic)

Brittany listened to everything Hendery told her from the small seahorses serving the merfolk to the giant humpback whales he used to swim and splash with. The dolphins were the best at making friends, and the starfish were the best dancers. He didn’t discuss the merfolk themselves due to his lack of knowledge about them, yet he gave only what he knew about himself being one. But Hendery talked very highly of the sirens.

“Didn’t they sing to lure pirates and sailors to their deaths?” Brittany’s eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Only the females,” Hendery confirmed. “Males sing, too, but for the opposite reasons. They sing to guide sailors and comfort the wandering travelers when on land.”

“Interesting. No one told me there were male sirens.”

“Not many humans do. Males don’t make contact with humans unless necessary. They stay in the fog or shadows.”

“That makes sense.”

Hendery rested his chin on her head for a moment before an idea popped into his head. “Would Brittany like to meet Hendery’s friends?”

“Your siren friends?” Her head popped up.

Hendery nodded.

“When?”

“Soon,” he promised. “They are helping another race of aquatic creatures right now, but I’ll call for them in a few days.”

Brittany’s eyes widened as they stood. “Who are they helping?”

Hendery thought for a moment. “Something about shark creatures or just a type of shark. Hendery doesn’t remember.”

Sharks were a creature most people are scared of, but Brittany guessed it was mainly because of the movie Jaws. She did agree that they were intimidating due to their rows of sharp teeth, but at the same time she didn’t mind them.

“Since you’re strong and grown up now,” Brittany wondered as they submerged back into the water, “do you live with the merfolk now?”

“Hendery is different,” he shook his head. “He is the only one of his kind who has shark’s teeth and consumes only fish. He can transform willingly without water, but only he can go humanoid for up to two weeks without getting back into the water.”

“You mean, you haven’t been around mermaids or other mermen since you were small?”

“Hendery is a nomad.”

Brittany didn’t know what to say. He was such a bright, curious, and happy soul that it was impossible to believe he had such a sad childhood. She understood why the merfolk would not allow him into their cities, but it still wasn’t fair to him if he just wanted a proper home. Her conscience knew it was all of a sudden, but she refused to let him sleep on a rock or beach anymore.

As they swam back to her house, avoiding the fishermen as they passed the pier, Brittany’s head was filled with the pros and cons of allowing him to live there. There was plenty of water for him to drink and keep hydrated, the ocean was literally in her backyard, and she would keep a stock of fish in the fridge. However, the fish might stink up her kitchen, and she didn’t know if he would be comfortable on a bed mattress. Part of her was saying it was a bad idea, but Brittany was taught to always help others in need.

The two made it back to her house and dried off with the towels hanging off the porch railing.

“Hendery likes it here,” the merman said as they sat under a large palm tree.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Brittany smiled. “May I ask you something?”

The offer for him to move in with her was right at the tippity top of her tongue, but she hesitated. It felt too soon. Instead, she remembered the carnival at the other end of the beach.

“Have you ever been to a carnival before?” was what came out of her mouth.

Hendery motioned towards the other end of the beach. “Is that what those bright lights are?”

“Yeah. We can go tonight, if you’d like.”

A smile grew on his face upon hearing this. “Hendery doesn’t not know what that is, but it sounds fun.”

“We’ll have to get cleaned up first.”

“Why?” he asked.

“So we don’t drag sand around,” she replied as they stood up.

Taking him by the hand, Brittany guided him into the house, while dragging a little bit of sand, and into a room he had never seen before. The walls were a shade of white with a blue tint, and in one corner was a large, glass door with glass walls and odd looking bottles inside. In the other corner was a round, boat-looking piece of porcelain that was big enough for two people to sit in. Between the two strange corners was a wooden cabinet that went from the floor up to the ceiling. Brittany opened one and pulled out pink colored towels and handed a few to Hendery.

“What is this place?” he asked as his eyes wandered around more.

“This is the bathroom,” Brittany replied when she realized she hadn’t given her friend a proper tour of the house. “It’s a room where humans clean themselves.”-She opened the glass door-”This is called a ‘shower.’ It’s more for when you wash your hair or just prefer a shower.”-she walked over to the porcelain boat. “And this is a bathtub. It’s more for a relaxing bath, but you still get clean, either way.”

“What are in those?” Hendery pointed to the bottles in the shower.

“Shampoo and conditioner are for your hair, and the body soap is self explanatory.”

Hendery nodded. For about half a minute, he glanced back and forth between the bathtub and the shower trying to figure out which he would like best. He wanted to see what bathing standing up was like, but he also desired to see what his tail would look sparkling clean. The ocean did so much by removing any mud or dirt, but he did notice tiny particles when he would be on dry land.

“Can Brittany bathe Hendery?” he requested. “In the bathtub?”

Brittany softly smiled and nodded. “I’ll turn around so you can undress.”

Once she turned on the water and made sure the temperature was okay, she then stood by the sink and faced the corner. The water rose to only about four inches before Hendery removed the borrowed clothing and discarded them on the floor. His toes carefully dipped into the warm, bubbly bath, taking in the relaxing sensation it created.

Hendery made his tail appear, replacing his human legs.

“Ready,” he said.

Brittany turned back around to see the merman in her bathtub trying his best not to splash the water too much, and she let out a giggle. He looked so cute just enjoying the water in that particular setting.

From the shower, she took out the hair products and body soap and set them on the floor next to her. Pulling up a stool, she sat down on it and had Hendery wet his hair. Brittany then squeezed some of the shampoo into her palm and began massaging it gently into Hendery’s scalp.

At first, her touch was strange, but as he gave in to her gentle massage and the feeling of her nails softly scratching his head, he relaxed. Hendery could get used to this, and he hoped that he could do the same for her one day.

Chunks of ocean mud were falling out of his hair, and the soap was starting to turn a little brown; but it told Brittany that his hair was clean. With help from the detachable faucet, she rinsed his jet black locks, and left the water back on to prevent dirt build up.

With a pink loofah, Brittany squeezed out some of the body soap and used it to scrub Hendery’s tail. She let him clean himself around his waist area to prevent any awkwardness, and then she scrubbed the rest of him. If his tail wasn’t sparkly before, it was sparkling now. Hendery’s eyes widened at how clean his tail was as he wiggled his tail to reflect the sunlight.

“Beautiful,” Brittany clapped.

Hendery smiled at the gorgeous job she did. He felt fresh and light. He loved the ocean, but something about a nice bath was relaxing.

“Thank you,” he whispered before kissing her hand.

Brittany felt her cheeks turn red. “Um...you’re welcome,” she managed to say. Maybe it was just his way of showing gratitude, she thought.

Hendery giggled when he noticed how much that little kiss affected her.

“Um...I’m...gonna...shower,” she stammered. “Can you...uh…?”

“Would Brittany like for Hendery to leave?” he realized what she was trying to convey.

“Just to the living room,” she regained her words back. “I’d like to shower in private.”

Crestfallen, Hendery nodded. Brittany gave him his towels and some fresh clothes before he transformed and left the bathroom.

Brittany felt bad for kicking him out, especially after seeing the sad expression on his face. She didn’t mean to come off so strongly, she was just in shock by his kiss that she couldn’t convey her thoughts well.

“Hendery,” she called after him, and he turned back around, “I’ll let you wash my hair one of these days.”

The smile returned to his face before he nodded in joy.

After she showered and dressed herself in some denim shorts, white converse, and a pink crop top Brittany met Hendery back in the kitchen. His hair was mostly dry now, but he was checking himself out in the living room mirror.

“Someone’s excited,” Brittany chuckled as she grabbed her purse. “Are you ready?”

Hendery nodded before following her out the door.

The carnival pier was only about a five minute walk from her house, and the lights could be seen in the distance as the late afternoon sun began to set. Neither of them realized they were holding hands until halfway into their walk. Brittany almost let go, but with growing feelings for her new friend she didn’t. They strolled on as if they had been together for a long time.

Tags: @fantasywayv @ezralia-writes @dearyongs @daybreakx @neocitybyday @mafia-nct @bumblebeenct @queen-of-himbos @the32ndbeat @philosopher-of-fandoms @dreamystuffers @jaekissd

#kwritersworldnet #kpopscape #nct-writers #kdiarynet #kpopficsnetwork #wayvhoursnet #nctcreations #neothestars #nct #wayv #wayv hendery #wong hendery #wong kunhang #wayv fluff #wayv angst #wayv hendery fluff #wayv x oc #merman au

18 notes · View notes

animalkingdom-an0nymous · 4 years

Text

Cruel Summer

Disclaimer: No gifs or photos are mine unless stated otherwise.

Warning: It’s a smutty, filthy, NSFW Tom Holland AU and he just can’t seem to keep his hands off his best friend’s sister. No. Really. It’s a problem for both of them.

Subject: Tom X Y/N

"Why can't you watch the beach house, Jordan?" I asked my brother with my phone tucked between my ear and shoulder, wet dishes in between my palms.

"Because you live closer, you don't have a toddler running around, and you got out of doing it last time."

"Bringing JJ into this is low, even for you. Scumbag." I laughed, not serious in the slightest.

Jordan was two years younger than me but was probably more put together than I'd ever be. He ran his own construction company, had a beautiful wife, and had given me the greatest gift I'd ever known; my nephew, JJ.

Staying at the beach house was far from a hardship, but there was a storm coming and based on the news reports it was going to get ugly. Mom and dad wanted someone there to keep an eye on things and they were getting a bit too old to handle the responsibility of tending to the beach house on their own. I didn't blame them, and I didnt blame Jordan, he was right. I did live closer, but I was also looking forward to spending this weekend's storm curled up in bed watching old Audrey Hepburn movies and eating my weight in Pizzeria Regina. My phone was gonna be on airplane mode, absolutely no disturbances. Maybe a few orgasms, a little porn.

But even as I was scrubbing dishes and getting ready for my relaxing weekend, I knew I'd soon be packing a bag and getting in my car to head to the beach. Shit. “Fine. Fine. I’ll head out soon, but if this storm turns out to be nothing I am returning your birthday present and you’re responsible for mom and dad’s anniversary dinner.”

“If you really want to trust your dear brother in the kitchen then that’s your fault.”

I laughed, drying my hands with a towel before grabbing the phone. “Jordan, can you promise me one thing?”

“What’s that, Y/N?”

“Promise to give that kid the biggest kiss for me. Leila, too.”

“Thank you for not stealing him away!” My sister-in-law’s voice traveled through the phone like a song, her Japanese accent soft.

“Love you both. Stay safe tonight.”

“Text me when you get there.”

I ended the call, tossing my phone on the bed and quickly rummaging through my closet. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the tv could be heard faintly from the living room, alerting me to the weather report. Sixty mile per hour winds, flash floods, possibility of power outages, and a storm warning was already in effect.

I quickly yanked on a pair of denim shorts and an old UMass hoodie, the maroon material worn and comfortable, and definitely not mine. There may have been a storm rolling in but the summer air was thick with humidity, so all I grabbed as alternatives were a bathing suit, another pair of shorts, and a t-shirt, tucking the materials into my backpack along with my toothbrush and phone charger.

Within minutes I was packed and ready to go, pulling the hood over my head and catching the familiar scent of someone I hadn’t seen in a while. Or, maybe it was less of a scent and more of a memory. Shrugging it away, I locked the door and bounded to my car just as the first few drops of rain began to fall.

Music flowed through the speakers as I took back roads towards the coast, something tugging at my heart a bit as I thought of the last time I’d been at the beach house. My parents, Jordan, Leila, JJ.

Tom.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to relax as an old song came on.

Fuck this. I turned the radio down, alone with my thoughts. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about Tom since the last time I saw him, since I said too much. It wasn’t a hookup, it was nothing more than a conversation. Which was fine, Tom and I were friends. Sort of. Not really. He was my brother’s friend, his best friend. And that was it.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t sitting there suddenly drowning in thoughts about our last encounter, both of us out on the back deck long after everyone had gone to sleep, the first real conversation we’d ever had in our adult lives. I hadn’t seen him in nearly two years when we were both still in college, Tom at UMass Amherst while I attended USC. He’d moved from London to the States with his family when he was thirteen, making fast friends with Jordan and becoming like a part of the family. He was around on holidays, weekends, he practically lived at our house during the summer. He would drink my orange juice and bother me while I tried to read. I’d known him when he was annoying and pimple faced, when he was an absolute dick to anyone who wasn’t JJ, when he was going off to college. Tom had been a major part of my childhood, my formative years.

He was also the biggest player I had ever met.

From an early age he knew that girls were drawn to the accent. He used it to his advantage, had girls hanging off his every word. I’d seen his social media, saw him shirtless on beaches with different girls, in clubs with different girls, in dorm rooms with different girls. I wasn’t jealous, but only because I’d known him for years. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about the hype.

From the day I met him, I knew Tom Holland was trouble.

But that night, long after everyone had gone to sleep and we were two bottles of wine deep, something shifted. Maybe it was the topic of conversation, maybe it was the way the late June breeze wrapped around us, maybe it was the fucking wine. But something changed that night.

But that was two months ago.

We hadn’t spoken since.

I shook my head, telling myself to stay focused on the road, on the drive. I could still have the peaceful weekend I wanted, if only I could turn my brain off for just a bit.

I was pulling into the driveway of the beach house forty five minutes later and the rain was coming down in buckets. It was flying sideways, splashing against the car hard enough that I couldn’t see out the windshield. Thunder boomed overhead and it felt as though it was straight out of a movie.

I yanked my hood up once more and killed the engine, gripping my backpack and holding it against my chest as I looked at the house. The two story, wood shingled home was every bit the beach cottage. It was located right on a dead end, a path leading straight down to the beach.

The lights were off, the furniture on the porch scattered from the wind. I knew I’d have my work cut out for me if I needed to make sure everything was secure, so without thinking twice, I threw open the driver’s side door and jumped out, the broken shells in the driveway crunching under my sneakers. I made a beeline for the side door, running up the steps and throwing open the storm door as the wind howled around me, A regular thunderstorm was bad enough. A summer storm? It could leave the house flooded.

Unlocking the door, I threw myself inside and slammed it behind me, leaning back and catching my breath as the silent stillness of the house settled around me. Thanks to modern technology, I turned the central air on before I got there, so the air was cool against my bare legs.

I went through the motions and turned some lights on, made sure the basement was shut with bags of sand by every entrance to soak up any flood water or other leaks. The fridge was empty, but I wasn’t hungry anyway. I knew I’d disappear up to my room with a bottle of wine and Netflix on my mind soon enough, I just needed to make-

Headlights bounced off the living room walls, a sign that someone had just pulled into the driveway. Surely it wasn’t my parents, they both hated driving in the rain, and it couldn’t have been Jordan, unless he was so concerned by the weather that he felt compelled to drive over an hour to check on me.

I quickly pulled my phone out of my back pocket. No missed calls or texts. Oh, so you’re saying it’s a murderer? My mind was quickly going into overdrive, covering all the possibilities of who would be there to murder me and what I could use as a weapon to defend myself. But hey, could you blame me? Twenty five years old and alone during a storm, 20/20 basically already had that episode mapped out for me.

A car door slammed shut.

Shells were being crunched under shoes.

Pounding footsteps up the side stairs. A shadow appeared on the other side of the door and my heart leaped into my chest. I was more than prepared to call the police when I heard the familiar sound of a key being inserted into a lock. I was standing in the doorway of the living room when the side door swung open, revealing someone I most certainly wasn’t expecting to see.

“I… Tom?”

He was squinting, his face and hair soaked by the onslaught of rain outside. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

It was evident that he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Tom’s accent seemed to thicken when he was angry or confused, and right now he seemed to be a mix of both.

I took in his appearance, trying not to be too obvious. He was wearing dark washed jeans and a pair of black Nikes, a simple black hoodie over a plain white t-shirt. Completely fucking effortless and still the most good looking guy in a fifty mile radius. His brown curls were matted to his forehead and he pushed them back, running his fingers through the thick trusses.

“What are you doing here?” The words came out accusatory and I cleared my throat. Relax. You’ve been in this house with him plenty of times before. “Are you... is there a girl in your car or something?”

“What?” Tom scrubbed a hand over his face, still clearly shocked and confused. “What do you- Jesus, no. You think I’d bring a girl back to your parents’ beach house, Y/N?” He finally looked at me, drops of water still catching on his long lashes. “You think I’d- hey, my jumper.”

“What?” I responded before looking down. Fuck. Me. Sideways. I was still wearing the UMass hoodie, the same UMass hoodie he’d given me last time I saw him. “Oh! Yeah, I… I brought it back to my place with me. And then Jordan called me and asked me to come here and it was right by the door, so I figured I’d… you know, bring it back here and… leave it… for you?” I was making it sound like a question.

Why was I making it sound like a question?

Are you having a fucking stroke? I asked myself as Tom blinked at me a few times, saying nothing. Lightning struck outside, momentarily blinding me as the lights flickered. Damn, losing power meant no Netflix. No Netflix meant Y/N’s chill weekend was about to go to shit. Technically, it already did because I 1) wasn’t even in my own home and 2) no longer feeling chill thanks to one british Tom.

“Jordan asked you to come?”

“Yeah, why?”

He looked around, peeking out the window. “Your parents called me and asked if I’d come make sure the house was secure.”

My parents? I was confused. Jordan specifically called me and asked me to go because he couldn’t. Why would my parents call Tom? Questions were flying through my head and I was already shrugging out of the hoodie, suddenly feeling like the material was too heavy, like I was drowning in it.

I held it out to him as he turned to face me again. “He probably didn’t call them to let them know I was coming, you know how he is.”

Tom smiled then, revealing straight white teeth. “Your brother’s a space cadet.”

That smile had my stomach doing backflips and I ached to calm down. It never used to be like this with him. He was cute, yes. Very. He was charming. He had nice looking hands. But he was Tom. He was Jordan’s Tom. He was the same Tom who fucked Missy Turner under the bleachers at the Homecoming game and the same Tom who let Rochelle Adams suck him off in the janitor’s closet during school. He was that Tom.

So why was I looking at him like he was Netflix and I’d had a long ass day?

I realized I was still staring, not saying anything. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here. We can kill Jordan, if you want. I feel like that’s good payback?”

Tom nodded, still smiling and playing along. “Yeah, we could. But then Leila would do away with us and I’m far too handsome to die this young.”

“True.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and jerked his chin at me. “And you… you have more of my jumpers to steal.”

I cocked my head to the side. “I didn’t steal it. If I remember correctly, you offered it to me.”

“I did.”

I was still holding the hoodie out to him. “Here.”

He made no move to grab it, hands still in his pockets. “Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

My stomach dropped and I found myself speechless. “I… you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah, no worries.”

I nodded my head, heat flooding my face as I looked down. What the fuck was going on with me? I didn’t act shy, not around other guys and definitely not around Tom. During college, I finally found my confidence sexually and I took hold of that. I was not the shy girl.

“Do you want to head out before the weather gets really bad?” I asked him

.As if on cue, thunder cracked loudly overhead, releasing a loud boom followed by flashes of lightning. The lights flickered again and Tom met my eyes across the room, blinking those chocolate pools at me. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere, darling.”

His voice was quiet, almost too quiet. I could have sworn I could hear the waves crashing against the shore, or maybe it was the blood rushing in my ears. We stood, staring at each other for a moment, and I opened my mouth to speak when there was a loud crash at the back of the house.

I jumped with a yelp, my heart slamming against my ribcage. “What the fuck was that?”

Tom moved past me, absentmindedly reaching out to touch my arm as he went. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Um, that’s what people say right before they murdered. Even though I had come to terms with the fact that I was irrational, I wasn’t going to take any risks. Turning, I followed close behind him, catching the earthy, musky scent of his soap. Or, was it his laundry detergent? I didn’t know, but I enjoyed it. He smelled woodsy, warm. Safe.

Back the fuck up I cleared my throat, telling myself not to look at the way the material of his jacket stretched across his shoulders. There was a small crash again as we made our way to the back door.

“It’s a shutter.” He laughed and opened the window, screaming wind filling my ears as he grabbed the shutter and slammed it, closing the window. Turning, he had a smug smirk on his face. “You’re a big baby.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, I’m not.”

He started to laugh, tilting his head back. “You screamed like a banshee.”

I flipped him off before turning my back on him, retreating as his laughter followed. “You’re a dick.”

My response only made him laugh harder.

Everything in the house seemed to be in order. The windows were shut and locked, the basement was set. The only thing that needed to be brought in was the outdoor furniture, but we needed the rain to let up a bit first.

When I walked back down the stairs after checking the second floor, Tom was rummaging through the kitchen. Seeing him there immediately brought me back to that night, the intimate conversation, the almost.

TWO MONTHS AGO

My parents had gone to bed nearly an hour ago and I was in my room listening to an old Rolling Stones record. Jordan was somewhere, possibly in his room with Leila and JJ, or possibly drinking down on the beach with Tom. It was one of the first weekends at the beach house, one of the first weekends of summer, and the air wasn’t thick yet. There was a breeze floating through the open windows and everything felt warm. New. The summer solstice was upon us and I lived for family weekends at the beach.

Funny thing about family weekends? Tom was there almost every single time.

“You’re still up?” I asked his back as I entered the kitchen, watching as he struggled to uncork a bottle of wine. He was wearing black basketball shorts and his old UMass hoodie, somehow still looking like an ad for an Abercrombie summer collection.

Tom sighed in defeat, slamming the bottle down on the granite countertop before answering me with a huff. “First weekend here and your brother’s already in bed.”

“Dad life.” I said with a laugh.

Tom smiled at the mention of our godchild. The day Jordan and Leila asked us to be godparents I’d been so emotional I cried for nearly an hour and, though I knew he wouldn't admit it if pressed, Tom was emotional about it, too.

“I love that little monster.”

I reached out, taking the bottle and finessing the cork for a moment before it finally released with a soft pop. “Jesus, Tom, you need to be slow with her. Gentle.” I chided as I reached into the cabinet, producing two glasses.

He took the bottle in a wide palm, tilting it to fill a glass before passing it to me. “I don’t know, she doesn’t like it too gentle.”

I rolled my eyes even as I felt my heart speed up. “Are we still talking about wine, or has the conversation moved to your latest conquest?”

Tom put a hand over his heart and threw his head back as if he’d been shot. “For your information, there hasn’t been a so called conquest in over a month.”

I feigned shock. “Over a month? Tommy, are you feeling alright?”

I was still laughing, but Tom paused to glare at me for using his little nickname. He hated being called Tommy and always had, but for whatever reason he never corrected me, never told me not to call him that. He’d glare, sure, but he never told me to stop.

“Feeling just fine, love.” He took a sip of the cool white wine, his brown eyes looking at me over the delicate crystal glass he held. “Fancy going outside for a bit?”

We were the only two left awake. I could faintly hear the pitter patter of feet upstairs as Jordan or Leila hushed a crying JJ, and then looked at Tom. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And that’s how we ended up on the back porch, the sound of the sea crashing against the shoreline as a soundtrack for our conversation. The wind had picked up but other than that the world was silent. It was just the two of us, and after not seeing each other for so long it felt like there was a million things to catch up on, yet I didn’t know where to start. I could ask him about graduation or what it was like to live in a big city, but in the grand scheme of things did those questions really matter? Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the atmosphere. But I wanted to know about Tom, about how he was doing, how his life was. If he was happy.

If he was single.

The thought was fleeting yet it caught me off guard nonetheless. I had no reason for caring if Tom was single, but there I was wondering if he was. He had changed over the two years I was away, his eyes sharper, his jaw more defined and making him look older. Still five eight but no longer the skinny boy he used to be. There was more definition to his arms, his chest a bit more puffed up. I took in the breadth of his shoulders and the slope of his neck, too caught up in staring at him to notice that he was actually speaking to me.

“What did you say?”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Daydreamer. Are you listening to me at all?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry!” I laughed, draining my glass and then reaching for the bottle. “This wine goes right to my head. I’m all ears, what were you saying?”

He grabbed the bottle from me, refilling his own glass. “I was asking you about being home. Are you and… Bryan… Bobby… doing the long distance thing?”

“His name is Ben, and no.”

Tom snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Ben! That’s right, Boring Ben.”

I wanted to defend my newest ex, but I couldn’t. He truly was one of the most boring, insufferable people I’d ever been around. We dated for the last two years of college, maybe out of convenience, or maybe because it was because I’d gotten comfortable. People assumed we would get married, but the thought of walking down the aisle to him made me sick to my stomach. We literally had nothing to talk about, his friends didn’t like me, and the sex was mediocre at best, leaving me disappointed with myself for getting so comfortable that I was settling for bad sex.

I took a sip of my wine, looking down at the glass for a moment.

“I… what did you just say, love?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused.

“Did you just say that you settled for bad sex with Boring Ben?”

What? What? It was quite possibly the biggest mistake I’d ever made, saying those words aloud. But it all honesty I didn’t think I’d said anything. I wasn’t drunk, definitely not drunk enough to make that sort of slip.

I was mortified.

My eyes widened as I looked at Tom. My face and ears felt hot and I tried to sputter out an apology. “Holy shit. Tom, listen, I didn’t mean to say any of that out loud. I-”

“Stop.”

I paused, my heart hammering in my chest. He leaned forward slightly, placing his glass on the table as he regarded me seriously. “You didn’t mean to say any of it out loud. But you were thinking about the bad sex you settled for?”

I took in his words and felt my face heat even more. It sounded pathetic, embarrassing, but I was so focused on school that the relationship had taken more of a backseat. It was nice to have someone at the holidays and during family and university events. It was nice to not feel so alone in California while my friends and family were three thousand miles away. It was all… nice. Convenient. Words that shouldn’t always be associated when regarding a relationship.

But it was my truth. Ben was boring, I was settling, we got stuck.

“Can we pretend this never happened?” I blurted the words out, hoping Tom would be agreeable. If he told Jordan they would rag on me for the rest of my life and having to suffer through it now was bad enough.

“I don’t think I can do that, darling.” He was already shaking his head and my stomach was sinking. “Because it breaks my heart that you settled for less.”

I didn’t know what to say, caught off guard by Tom’s soft tone and sweet words. I shouldn’t have zeroed in on him calling me darling, but I couldn’t help it. He’d never done that before.

Ever.

I shivered, not knowing if it was from the breeze or the way he was looking at me, but he noticed. Quirking that one, whacky eyebrow at me, Tom asked, “Are you cold?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, the wind is picking up.” I rubbed my hands over my arms.

Tom stood, reaching a hand behind his back in between his shoulder blades, pulling his hoodie off. I tried to avert my eyes as the front of his shirt rose, revealing a strip of skin above his shorts. I couldn’t help but stare at the defined V of his hips or notice the way his ab muscles contracted with every movement.

He handed me the sweatshirt with a boyish smile on his face. “Take it. I’m hot anyway.”

You have no idea, I mused silently, thanking him and slipping the material over my head. It was soft, worn, the inside of it felt warm from his body heat. I could feel his eyes on me as I adjusted the material, pulling the hood up so that it framed my face.

“Looks good,” he quipped.

I smiled, taking a very large sip of my wine, thinking I was out of the clear.

“So how bad was it?”

I nearly spit the wine out at the question. “Excuse me?”

“The sex.” He deadpanned. “How bad was it?”

If I was the fainting type I would have been on the deck floor. “Tom, I’m not fucking telling you about my sex life.”

“Sounds like a LACK of a sex life, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

He smiled, but it quickly faded as he regarded me seriously. “Really, Y/N, how bad was it?”

I wanted to blame my honesty on the alcohol or the late hour, but really I think I just wanted someone to talk to. Someone to confide in. Tom may have been an asshole playboy to some, but never to me. Thinking back on it, he may have even been a gentleman to me. Sure, he would annoy me when we were kids and barge into my room without knocking, or he’d go through my purse looking for gum, and there was the time he accidentally ate my birth control thinking it was a mint.

But Tom was also the guy who punched my high school boyfriend in the teeth for dumping me the night before Homecoming. He was also the guy who made an obnoxiously huge sign with Jordan for my graduation. He was that guy.

“It wasn’t… bad.” I found myself starting to open up a bit, pulling at a thread that was sure to unravel if I didn’t stop soon. “It was just routine. It was always the same thing, Ben wasn’t very adventurous. He didn’t like to try things, he hated anything new. He was just…” I took a breath, trying to choose my words carefully. “Set in his ways, I suppose. And that didn’t work for me anymore.”

“So, you ended it?”

I nodded, draining my glass once again. “Yeah, and that was when he showed his true colors.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

I thought back to the breakup. We’d been in Ben’s truck and it was raining. We were parked at a diner that was pretty much in the middle of nowhere. “He confronted me. He knew I was acting weird and he refused to drop it until I told him. I tried to explain that it wasn’t him, that I felt we just weren’t compatible. Ben lost his fucking mind. He was screaming at me about how he had all these plans for us, how I was fucking things up.” I paused, thinking back on the way he looked at me, like I was trash. “He called me a cunt, told me to get out of his car, and then I walked two miles back to my apartment.”

Tom’s eyes widened at my admission. His cheeks were tinted pink and I assumed it was from the booze, but when his mouth pulled into a tight line I realized it was because he was angry. I’d even say he was pissed. “He what?”

“I know, I know, it was a shitty thing for him to do. But the thing is, I’m not even all that upset about it anymore. I finally got to see who he really was and, oddly enough, the only thing I felt on that two mile walk was relief. It was finally over, it was like Ben was my last attachment to California. I could finally come home.”

He was silent for a moment, taking a sip of his wine before speaking. “Do your parents know about what happened with Ben? Does Jordan?”

I shook my head.

“Then why tell me?”

Our eyes met, held. Tom’s face held a look of concern, confusion, and something else. Something I couldn’t quite place. He was leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees as we stared each other down.

“Because honesty comes easier when it’s dark out, Tommy.”

He swallowed, not looking away from me. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears, the wine making my lips tingle with the familiar buzz. Everything suddenly felt hot, burning hot, like it was on fire. Like the whole world was about to go up in flames.

Maybe mine was.

“I won’t tell them.”

“I know you won’t.” I reached out, gripping his hand. “You’re a good guy, Tommy.” I gave his hand a quick squeeze, meaning to let go, but then his long digits were wrapping around the back of my hand and it suddenly felt like we were magnets. I couldn’t let him go. His skin was warm, somewhat calloused against the soft skin of my knuckles.

His voice was so soft and quiet when he finally broke the silence, I had to lean in to hear him. “Y/N, what were those things you wanted to try?”

“Huh?” I felt as though I was in a trance.

“You said Boring Ben never wanted to try new things. What were they? He raised his eyebrows expectantly, fingers still stroking over the back of my hand.

It felt like a distraction, a very chaotic, overstimulating distraction. It was the smallest, simplest of movements, but feeling his fingers dance across my skin was hypnotic, and it was only my HAND. But I couldn’t ignore the question and it made my stomach turn. I didn’t want to tell him the things I wanted to do with Ben, the different versions of sex I wanted to explore more of. Sure, I tried things with different people before Ben and I got together, but it had been so long. So long since I got the attention I was craving.

So long since I’d done something reckless and new.

So long since I’d been touched by hands that were actually interested in making me feel more than a grip.“Tom…” I breathed out his name, suddenly overwhelmed. The scent of him was on the sweatshirt I wore and I could feel his knee bump mine as he moved closer.

“Tell me. I can keep a secret, love.” His words were hushed, quiet as he leaned just a little closer, our faces mere inches apart.

“I…” I started, my eyes flickering down to his lips before moving back up. Tom saw the movement, his lips curling slightly. “I wanted… something new.”

“Something new or someone new?” Tom responded.

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly, feeling his fingers tighten around mine.

“I think you do. I think you know exactly what you want, Y/N, you just need to say it.” He leaned even closer, his nose brushing mine, and when I went to back up he brought his free hand around and reached into the sweatshirt, knocking the hood off and cupping the back of my neck, his hand gentle but firm, kneading the soft skin where my neck met my shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” I gasped, suddenly struggling to breathe, overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events.

“Then tell me what you want. Say it.”

I was so wrapped up in Tom, in the moment, that I didn’t care about anything. Fuck the neighbors, fuck Boring Ben, fuck my family that was literally sleeping only feet away in the house. I wanted Tom. I wanted new. I wanted him to touch me the way he touched the girls who told stories about him. I wanted him to kiss me like he’d die if couldn’t.

“I want y-”

“Y/N? Tom?” a soft, sleepy voice came from just inside the house.

We sprang apart like we’d been electrocuted, Tom standing and walking to the edge of the porch while I pulled the hood back up, trying to look nonchalant and failing beautifully just as Jordan poked his head out from the screen door. “What are you two doing up?”

Tom didn’t answer, still looking out towards the path that led to the beach. “We couldn’t sleep, figured we’d devour a bottle of wine and then crash.” I laughed even though I felt anything but amused, standing up and heading over to the door. “I’m gonna try to sleep, though. I’ll see you both in the morning?” I brushed past Jordan, standing up on my tiptoes to hug him before turning to Tom, who had finally turned around. The look on his face was strained and frustrated, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

God, he was so far from the boy I used to know.

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

PRESENT

“Earth to Y/N.” Tom waved a hand in front of my face, laughing. “You with me?”

I shook my head, pulled out of that very intimate memory. “What? Yeah, sorry. It’s been a long week.” I laughed and tried to play it off like I was fine, but my stomach was turning in knots. We’d both slept under the same roof before, hundreds of times, but now things felt different. Heavy. It was like I’d spilled something last time and there was still a stain that wouldn’t come up no matter how hard I scrubbed.

“You have your pick of bedrooms.” I said casually. “Jordan’s, my parents’, the guest room. Whatever you want.”

Whatever you want. It was an unintentional double entendre, but I noticed the way his eyes darkened slightly.

“Where are you sleeping?”

“My room.” I clarified.

He nodded his head, moving around the center island as he shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it over the back of the couch. “Y/N, can I ask you a question?”I shrugged my shoulders.

“Go for it.”

He looked at me then, his jaw clenched as he braced his hands on the back of the sofa, fingers spread in a way that looked almost vulgar. “Why the fuck are you looking at me like you’re scared I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

“I’m not.” I started to defend myself, straightening my spine. “I’m just freaked out because of the rain.”

“Bollocks. You’ve loved the rain since we were kids.”

I shook my head, sensing the anger in his tone. “Don’t do this whole angry british thing tonight, Tom. I’m in a mood.”

“Clearly.”I narrowed my eyes at him, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” He huffed at me, his cheeks flushed. “You’re the one who can barely look me in the eye, Y/N. So, you tell me what the problem is.”

“I don’t have a problem.” It was a lie. A blatant lie. But I wanted to move past whatever this was with him. I had to move past it. I couldn’t crush on my brother’s best friend. I read those books. I saw those movies. It would ruin everything.I had finally come home, had finally gotten my old life back. No matter how much I wanted Tom- and believe me, I fucking craved him- I could never have him. He would always be just out of my grasp.Which was a good thing.

“Okay, you don’t have a problem. That means we can discuss what happened last time we were here, yeah?”

I froze, no words coming out of my mouth. He said the words so casually it was as though he was talking about the weather. “I... “ I was struggling, slipping, losing my composure. “I don’t know-”

Tom was shaking his head, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Don’t even fuckin’ say it, Y/N. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Tom looked at me, eyes blazing. “You wanted it, I know you did. I felt it.”

My breathing was labored as I blinked at him. I had no idea how to respond. I didn’t want to acknowledge what happened, I wanted us to forget it and move on. It was a moment of weakness, it was late.

“It was the wine.” I said quietly. “We were drinking. W-we weren’t thinking straight.”

“It was the wine.” He repeated my words, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at me. “It was the wine.. That’s a joke, innit?” When I didn’t respond, Tom walked over to me, the tips of his sneakers touching the tips of my bare toes. “The truth is, Y/N, you didn’t drink that much. Neither did I. I knew exactly what I was saying to you and I was sober enough to see your reaction.”

“Tom-”

“Why won’t you be honest with me?” Tom’s voice was so soft it felt like a blanket.

The question felt like a knife to the gut? He was right to be confused. I never had any issue speaking my mind with Tom, with Ben, with anyone. I was opinionated, I said what was on my mind. But I was completely frozen with him. I just couldn’t push the words out of my mouth, couldn’t tell him that all of this was killing me, draining me. I couldn’t be open and honest and tell him that I’d spent the last two months thinking about him. That it never stopped. That the smell of him was haunting me, the feeling of his fingers on my skin was a memory I wanted to drown it. Tom had been in my life for over a decade.

Why now?

As if God was finally on my side for once, we were interrupted by the sound of furniture scraping across both the front and back decks. “My parents are gonna kill me if we lose any of those deck chairs.”

He stared at me for a moment and said nothing, his eyes searching my face. Eventually, he took one step back, seemingly giving up

.I hated the relief that went through me. But more than that, I loathed the disappointment that tugged at my heartstrings. I felt his eyes on me as I walked to the front door, pulling open the door and bursting outside with a deep breath, appreciating the way the rain hit my skin. I needed to cool down.

We were both silent as we got the stuff from the front and put it in the living room, turning the normally spacious room into nothing more than a cramped closet. Then came the back of the house, something that would be more difficult. The furniture was heavier, we had to walk up and down stairs, the thunder was clapping so loud I feared I’d go deaf.

I glanced up at Tom as he bounded down the porch steps. His shirt was completely soaked, the white material now stuck to his skin, nearly transparent. I could make out the tight muscles of his shoulders and the way his back tapered down to a lean waist.

Stop, stop, stop. I was screaming at myself, my feet slipping in my flip flops. I angrily kicked them off and then stormed down the stairs, suddenly furious about the rain and having to come to the beach house, and I was angry at Tom for not leaving well enough alone. More than that though, I was angry at myself for letting any of it happen in the first place.

He was dragging chairs by me when I stopped and wheeled around, facing him. “Why would you go and do this now?” I had to shout to be heard over the rain. “Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”

Tom paused for a moment, his jaw clenched, rain dripping down his face. Releasing the chairs, he slicked his hair back. “I… I don’t know. Okay, I don’t bloody know, Y/N. I saw you here for the first time in two fucking years, and I missed you. I missed you so fucking much and I didn’t even know it. And then you were here and I couldn’t get enough of you. I wanted to catch up, I wanted to talk. I wasn’t even going to try anything, not that night, but then you mentioned Ben and everything you didn’t do with him, and I just couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry, alright? I am. But I’m not gonna sit here and play this bullshit game with you. You let me in that night and you can’t take it back.”

You let me in that night and you can’t take it back.

His admission left me stunned. He looked vulnerable and honest, the words heartfelt. I knew he meant all of it, that he didn’t mean for anything to happen that night. Not that anything really happened, but it felt as though that conversation changed everything. There was a shift, one that neither of us could stop.

“It doesn’t matter.” I finally responded, my voice laced with disappointment. “We can’t do this, Tom. Whatever that night was, whatever that conversation was, it has to stay there. It has to stay in that night.”

“I can’t fucking do that!” He shouted, the rain still pouring down around us. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend I didn’t feel something, Y/N.”

I was aching for him to stop. I knew he meant all of it, that he wasn’t trying to play me or hurt me. Tom would never risk saying the things he said if they weren’t at least party true.

I was beyond frustrated as I turned, grabbing more things to bring inside. Tom was huffing and puffing ahead of me, mumbling to himself. He was clearly angry, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed. We were both soaked from head to toe, my feet bare against the deck as we lifted the glass table, maneuvering it up the stairs to the back of the house.Tom’s eyes were on me the whole time and I was too cowardly to look in his direction. Carrying that heavy glass table while thunder roared and lightning flashed was stressful, to say the least. But I didn’t even care about the storm, I cared about the absolute hurricane that was my situation with Tom. I wanted to fix it, needed to.

“Why are you so stubborn?”

His question caught me off guard. We’d put the rest of the furniture away and I was outside searching for one missing flip flop, rain hitting me sideways as I turned to stare at him. He was leaned against the door frame, arms crossed with that white shirt sticking to him like a second skin. I could make out the line of the chain he wore, could see where it fell against his chest. Tom looked like the cover of a romance novel, a few stray curls falling around his forehead. Even in my terrified, angry confusion, my attraction to him was undeniable.

“I’m not being stubborn. I’m being smart. What, you want me to admit that I’m attracted to you? Fine, Tom. I am. But attraction doesn’t change things. We can’t cross that line, now will you please help me find my other flip flop?”

“Jesus.” He stormed past me, pointing a finger in my direction as he went. “This conversation’s not done.”

I shouted his name as he walked back down the stairs in no urgency because he was already soaked. His jeans sat low on his hips, probably weighed down by the water as he bent down, pulling something from one of the hedges at the end of the property. My flip flop. Turning, Tom walked back up the stairs slowly, purposefully, his stance all man and making me feel very, very small. I was waiting at the top when he finally stepped up, crowding me, holding my shoe in his right hand. Our chests were touching, just slightly, and I could feel my nipples harden from the slight contact.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, reaching to grab it from him.

Only to have Tom pull it towards him, away from me. “Have you thought about kissing me?”

“What?”

“Have you thought about me touching you?”

“Tom…” I backed up three steps with him following my movements, keeping us close, chest to chest.

“Those things you wanted to try, have you thought about trying them with me? Because, fuck, I’ve thought about you.”

His admission made me weak, my breath catching in my throat. We were getting close, so dangerously close to something we couldn’t turn back from.

“I’ve thought about you every day. I’ve thought about your eyes and your mouth and the way you look in my fucking jumper.” Tom’s hands grabbed my face roughly, cupping my cheeks, fingers tangling in my hair.

He was holding me there as my breathing went ragged, our eyes finally meeting. His pupils were blown out, water dripping down the bridge of his nose

.It was all so intense. It was overwhelming. I wanted him so bad it was physically starting to hurt, my hands going up and gripping his wrists, prepared to pull his hands away. “You are… so fucking infuriating.” I was breathless, weak, but I still noticed the smile that pulled at his lips.

“Darling, I’m a fucking devil.”

I knew what was coming, knew I should pull away, but as soon as his lips came down on mine in a bruising, hard kiss, I knew I was gone.

Tom’s lips were hard, demanding, his tongue eagerly licking at the seam of my mouth and begging for entry. His hands still held my face hard enough to prevent me from backing up, but even if he let go I knew I’d stay, the brief taste of his lips so intoxicating it felt like I was in a trance.

He pulled back, his eyes opening. Our noses still touched and I could feel his breath fan across my lips. Our eyes met and for the briefest moment I thought he was going to pull away, but he spoke instead.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

I paused, my throat dry and my breathing ragged. I couldn’t lie anymore, to Tom or myself, so I opted for honesty instead. “You, Tom. I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear before his mouth was on mine again. He slanted his lips over mine, tilting my head back. When our tongues touched I felt like my body was on fire and I couldn’t help but wonder why we hadn’t done it sooner. Tom tasted like mint, like a secret, like my deepest, darkest fucking fantasy.

All of a sudden he was pushing us, walking forward while I stumbled back, our mouths still fused together as he let out a soft groan. I wanted so badly to memorize the sound, to hear it again, but I was too focused on not falling over. Something sharp dug into my back and I winced, gasping into Tom’s mouth.

“What the fuck was that?” I gripped my side and turned. The doorknob.

“Shit,” he muttered, reaching to lift at the edge of my shirt. “Is it going to leave a bruise? Let me kiss it better.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed, opening the door and ushering him inside. “I’m fine. Really.”

“No.” Tom’s hands gripped my hips. He was looking at me with mischief in his eyes and it made my stomach do a backflip. “Really, love, let me kiss it better.” I felt his fingers skim over my bare flesh as he dragged the wet material of my shirt up and over my head, dropping it to the ground.

My chest was heaving as he looked me over, eyes zeroing in on my breasts. I was wearing a simple black lace bra, nothing fancy. But Tom was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and my heart swooned.I thought he was going to kiss me again, but instead he sank to his knees and my breath caught in my throat as he looked up at me. I was wearing my shorts, my underwear, and a barely there bra while Tom was still fully dressed. I felt vulnerable, small, but in that moment I fucking loved it.

Tom’s breath fanned over my hip as he kissed the spot where the doorknob had jammed into me. “Better?” he asked, looking up at me through thick, dark lashes. All I could do was nod, and his smug smile told me everything I needed to know; Tom knew exactly what he was doing.

His hands skimmed over the backs of my thighs, traveling down. When his fingers touched the backs of my knees they wobbled, and I knew he felt it. “This alright?”

I nodded my head, reaching one hand out and tangling my fingers in his wet hair, feeling his head nudge into my touch. “Use your words, Y/N.”

“It’s okay.” I managed to gasp out. He’d barely touched me, barely kissed me and I was still completely breathless.

“Do you want more?”

"Fuck." I gritted my teeth, suddenly frustrated he was moving so slow. "Yes."

He smiled, soft lips trailing over my hip, his teeth biting at the denim that hugged my skin. "How about we play a game?"

I huffed, my fingers stilling in his hair. "I'm not in the mood for games, Tom."

He stood then, nails lightly scraping up the sides of my legs and making my skin break out in goosebumps. Every single part of me was ignited and I was on sensory overload. "What if I promised you win this game?" He kissed my shoulder, one hand trailing over my side and traveling up my back, tracing my vertebra. "What if I told you that you win quite a few times?"

I gasped, drunk on his words as he leaned in, kissing me again just as he reached up and unclasped my bra. The straps fell down my shoulders slowly and as his lips grazed mine I reached bed between us, tugging the rest of the material down.

Like any straight, hot blooded male, Tom leaned back and looked down, taking in my naked breasts. "Shit," he breathed, leaning down and sliding his tongue over the curve of one globe, mouth warm and tongue wet. I was already arching into his touch when his mouth closed over my nipple. I thought he’d be gentle, thought he’d start slow, but he sucked HARD, yanking my nipple to the roof of his mouth until I yelped.

Tom groaned against my skin, releasing me with a pop. “Mhm, I liked that sound. Didn’t picture you as a screamer.” He smirked at me, his mouth red and his lips swollen.

I laughed and leaned in, my arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as we stumbled through the dining room. “Yeah? You’ve been thinking about the sounds I make?” I licked a fat stripe up Tom’s neck, feeling him shiver against me.

“I’ve thought about much more than that.” He grabbed me by my hips, now in the kitchen, and lifted me, my ass landing on the counter as the wind howled outside.I watched, mesmerized as Tom lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest. His abs were hard, tight, and I wanted to leave hickies scattered across his collarbones.

“I’ve thought about you. Here.” He tapped one finger against the countertop. “And I thought about what it would be like to fuck you while everyone slept upstairs.” He took a step forward, his hands going to his jeans, fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. “Me, telling you to be quiet, putting my hand over your mouth.”

Tom’s long fingers reached out, sliding over my chin, across my cheek. When they traveled over my lips I couldn’t help but poke my tongue out, tasting the tips of his fingers. He stopped for a moment, leaving them there, eyes glued to my mouth as I repeated the motion, this time holding eye contact as I tipped my head back, letting his index and middle fingers dip into my mouth, my tongue wrapping around them and sucking softly.

His hand twitched slightly, I felt it, and I smiled around his fingers, groaning softly when he pulled back. The truth was, I wanted them deeper. So much deeper.

“Fuckin’ minx.” Tom’s voice was rough and his hands were the same, gripping my thighs hard and pulling me to the edge of the counter. My legs hugged his slim waist, my hands settling on his chest. “You want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I nodded my head. Consequences be damned.“Fine. I’ll fuck you any way you want. But you have to tell me one of those things you wanted to try first.”

“Tom…”

“C’mon.” His voice was soft, smooth. Charming. When he spoke again his accent was thicker and I physically throbbed for him. “Give me a little bit, love.”

“I…” I started, suddenly very self conscious of my own sexual desires. It was different when I was having sex with Ben because it was always the same thing, and it was different sleeping with a stranger because I’d never have to see them again. But I would have to face Tom in the morning and every day after that. I didn’t want his opinion of me to change. “I want to suck your fingers while you fuck me.”

The words were so soft I wasn’t even sure he heard me. He was silent, eyes staring at my mouth before looking up, meeting my gaze. “That’s it? That’s what you were so nervous to tell me?”

I shook my head, unable to help myself from laughing. “Oh, man. No, you have no idea how many things I want to try. We’re just not there yet.”

Yet.

Why was I implying that it was going to happen again?

Tom’s hands were sliding up and down my thighs while my ankles were locked at his waist, his fingers eventually popping the button and zipper while I waited for his response. “You like hands?” When I nodded he continued. “You like my hands?” As if to emphasize, he slapped one hand roughly over the side of my thigh and I jumped.

He shushed me, pursing his lips softly. “Relax, darling. We’re about to have fun.”

Without another word he unwound my legs and pushed his hands against my shoulders until I was laying flat against the cold quartz counter, arching my back and gasping. Tom hooked his fingers into my shorts and underwear, pulling both down and leaving me completely naked in one swift move. I felt vulnerable and open, but he quickly forced me to move past that as he spread my legs, his fingers splayed across my thighs.

His groan sent shivers through me.

“You’re like a fucking dream.” His words were hushed even though we were the only two in the house. “Oh, shit, did I just see you clench up for me?” His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as I threw my hands over my face, mortified and turned on all at once. He could see every part of me.

“Tom!” I practically shouted. If he didn’t touch me soon I was going to-

My body tensed up and every coherent through flew from my mind as Tom licked a fat stripe all the way from my ass to my clit, groaning and sending vibrations through me. My legs twitched and he repeated the motion, my nerve endings on fire.

Tom Holland’s head was between my fucking thighs.

His lips closed over my clit, sucking at the same time as he pressed his tongue flat against the bundle of nerves, and my hips pretty much lifted off the counter.

“Tommy!” I gasped, the sound ending on a choked moan as he looked up at me, brown eyes nearly black.

He pulled back for a moment and I could see his lips, glistening and wet from my arousal. “You know, you’re the only one allowed to call me that?”

My head lolled slightly and I looked at him, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair. “Why?”

“Because I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

His admission did something to my insides, made me just a little weaker for him. I was the only one allowed to call him Tommy, the only one to have that little nickname. Something possessive soared through my veins and I quickly sat up, seeing his shocked expression as the fingers that were in his hair traveled down, grabbing the back of his neck and tugging him towards me, our lips attaching. I couldn’t stop fucking kissing him and when I tasted myself on his tongue I wanted him even more, sliding my tongue into his mouth and dominating the kiss.

“I wasn’t fucking done with you yet.” He spoke against my mouth.

“But you said this was about me trying things. There’s something I want to try, Tommy.”

His eyes shut briefly, his jaw clenched, concentrated. He was coming undone for me in the same way I was for him. “What’s that?”

I ran my fingers over his collarbones, tracing the delicate bones with my fingers. I was nervous, forcing myself to push the words out anyway. “You know how when you were in high school being sneaky and fucking in a girl’s parents house was fun? And, sometimes, when the parents weren’t around you and the girl would sneak up to her parents’ room?”

His laps traveled over my jaw, down my neck, and I felt him smile against my skin. “You want me to fuck you in your parents’ bed?”

My face heated and I nodded, burying my face in his shoulder.

Tom laughed softly, pulling back and helping me off the counter. I was acutely aware of the fact that I was completely naked while he still wore jeans and black Calvin’s but I no longer cared. In fact, there may have been a part of me that enjoyed the way I felt knowing I was the only one who was naked. It made me feel small, soft.

“What are ya’ waitin’ for then?” He arched a brow and nodded towards the stairs. “Move your ass.”

I practically sprinted past him, moving before he even finished speaking. His eyes were on me as I moved, my hips swaying a little more than usual. Tom was hot on my heels as I bounded up the stairs, one of his hands reaching out and giving my ass a swift, harsh slap. I welcomed the sting, pausing on the stairs and turning to look at him as a gasp escaped.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” He marveled, a smirk playing at his lips. “I knew you liked it a little rough.”

I began backing slowly down the hall, facing him. “Oh, you have no idea.”

He arched a brow, molten brown eyes looking me up and down. “Is that right? You feel like telling me any of those deep, dark fantasies, or are we not there yet?”

I couldn’t help but laugh as he threw my words back at me. “Not yet. I like surprising you.”

I stepped into my parents’ room and Tom followed suit, looking around as the wind rattled the glass windows.

The air suddenly felt thick. The king sized bed loomed behind me and it all felt real. Terrifyingly, brutally real. I was about to get into that bed with Tom, I was about to take a huge step off a very large cliff. Whether it was good or bad- although I prayed it would be good- didn’t matter. We would never be able to come back from this.

“Believe me, you’ve done nothing but surprise me tonight, Y/N.”

“I actually think it’s your turn.” I said with a small smile as I crawled onto the bed, looking at him over my shoulder.

Tom was too busy taking in the view of my naked backside to comprehend my question. “What?”

I sprawled out across the bed and rested my chin on my hand, looking at him. His jeans were undone and his hardened cock pressed almost painfully against the denim material. “It’s your turn. I’ve been very honest about what I want to try, but what about you, Tommy? What do you want?”

His eyes locked on mine and my breath caught as he moved forward. “I want you. I want you to say my name while you come, I want you to wrap those beautiful legs around me and squeeze whenever I go just a little too deep. I want to fuck you the way I’ve dreamed about fucking you since I was fifteen years old.”

His candid admission left a pang in my heart and I quickly tried to stifle it, leaning up as he leaned down, our mouths fusing together once again. It seemed that I couldn’t keep my mouth off his. Maybe it was because I had been fantasizing about that mouth for so long, maybe it was because Tom was just that good of a kisser, but either way I didn’t care.

“Fuck me. Now.” The words were mumbled against his lips.

Tom’s lips traveled down my jaw to my neck and he bit the skin where my shoulder and neck connected. His sopping wet jeans pressed against me and I hissed out a breath as he pulled back, laughing down at me. His brown hair had begun to curl at the sides and he looked boyish, young. His cheeks were flushed and I couldn’t even remember why I’d tried to fight my attraction in the first place.

He jumped off the bed and began the painstaking effort of removing wet denim.

“God… fucking… dammit!” I watched him struggle, biting back a laugh as he hopped around the room, kicking one leg free and then the other. When he looked back up at me his eyes narrowed and he glared. “Are you laughing?”I shook my head, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth.“You’re laughing at me right now.”

I shook my head, backing up on the bed as Tom came forward. “No, no I’m not. I’m-” I shrieked as his hand wrapped around my ankle and he dragged me down the matress.

I struggled against him as he leaned over me, covering his body with mine as his hands tickled at my sides. I gasped and laughed, nearly headbutting him at one point. “Tom, please, I was-wasn’t laughing.” I was trying to explain myself when his hips settled between my thighs, his hard cock pressing against my clit, right where I was aching for any kind of attention, or friction, I could find.

“You’re not laughing anymore,” he whispered against my mouth.

“Not really finding anything to laugh at right now.” My response was just as quiet, my fingers linking behind his neck as he braced a hand on either side of my head. Our eyes met as he ground his hips against me, my mouth falling open in a quiet moan as Tom settled on a good rhythm. He wasn’t even inside me yet and I was already on the edge, my thighs trembling as they squeezed his trim waist.

Tom seemed just as eager as I was, his arms wrapping around me and then unwrapping, hands trailing up and down my sides, over my breasts, gripping my thighs. My own nails scratched lightly over his shoulders and I reveled in the way he shivered on top of me. His breathing was heavy, chest heaving as I lifted my hips, grinding harder, needing more.

“I…I don’t…” Tom trailed off and I stopped my movements.

My heart sank at his tone. He was about to tell me he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t sleep with his best friend’s sister. I, of course, would be mortified and naked and ashamed as he got dressed to inevitably leave, where he would get into a car accident and die because there was a storm raging outside. And then I would have to explain to my parents and Jordan that I killed Tom because I-

“I don’t have a condom.”

What?

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom.”It was a split decision, and normally I would argue with myself about practicing the art of safe sex, but I had waited too fucking long for this and I was thankful that he wasn’t about to leave me naked in the middle of my parents’ bed.

“I’m on the pill.”

He arched a brow. “You’re cool with…”

I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t seen him bashful very often, but I had to admit I found it completely adorable. “Tommy, I’m cool with anything that involves you being inside me.”

“Thank fucking god.” He sat back on his knees between my splayed thighs and I watched as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his briefs, shoving them down so that his cock sprang free, slapping up against his abdomen. My eyes widened as I finally got the first glimpse of what had been grinding against me for the last thirty minutes, of what I’d been dreaming about all summer. His cock was long, a pulsating vein across his shaft.

My mouth watered at the sight of the pre-come that gathered at his crown and I reached forward with every intention of wrapping my fingers around him. But Tom’s hand snapped forward and he grabbed my wrist, halting my movements.

“I want this to last longer than fifteen seconds and, honestly, if you touch me right now I’m going to fucking explode all over you like a fifteen year old .I don’t want to ruin this.”

I looked up at him. He was panting, his cheeks tinted pink. He looked rumpled, worked up, his eyes dark, and I’d never wanted him more. Leaning up, I gave him a quick kiss on the lips, darting my tongue out to taste his quickly. “Get on with it then.”

Tom smiled against my mouth and then he was pushing me down again, covering his body with mine. His skin was warm and the hair on his legs tickled my thighs, but all I could really focus on was the deep, intense throbbing that had settled low in my stomach. I actually feared that I would die or combust if he didn’t fuck me so-

Too wrapped up in my aching body, I didn’t notice that Tom had reached between us and lined himself up at my entrance. When I felt his knuckles brush against my swollen clit I stiffened, a weak whine leaving my mouth.“I want to hear that fuckin’ noice on repeat for the rest of my life,” he whispered against the damp skin at my temple.

I was about to open my mouth and give a half assed witty response when I felt his body surge forward, his cock sinking into me in one long, swift, nearly painful because it was so good move. I gasped, my thighs squeezing Tom’s hips and my nails digging into his sides.

His groan in my ear sent vibrations through me and I shook underneath him, trying to find my breath, trying to acknowledge the fact that it was Tom inside me. Tom Holland. My brother’s best friend. But at that moment in time someone could tell me I didn’t actually have a brother and I would have believed them. I would have believed the moon was actually made of cheese. I would have believed anything… because none of it mattered.

In that moment the only two people who existed were Tom and me. Just us and the storm. “Tommy.” My voice shook as he pulled nearly all the way out, just holding the tip of his cock inside me.

Tom looked down at me with his eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging open. He looked serious albeit desperate and I could completely understand why. It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room as soon as he pushed inside me. “You good? You need a minute?”

I shook my head. “You feel so good.”

Something snapped in him then. I watched it happen. His eyebrows relaxed, the hands that were on either side of my head clenched into fists, and his hips snapped forward as he pushed in to the hilt, repeating the motion twice more before a rough grunt escaped his lips.

I slammed my head back against the pillows as a moan tore from my throat. He’d barely been inside me two minutes and I already felt like I was on the verge of an earth shattering orgasm. But it was true. Tom had kept me riled up so long, far longer than just this messy afternoon. My body had been waiting for this for so fucking long.

Tom’s teeth sank into my shoulder. Hard. He didn’t let up until I yelped, and then he pulled back with a devilish smirk. “Look at you,” he said, breathing heavily as he lowered his head, our noses brushing. “Screaming underneath me whilst I fuck you in your mum and dad’s bed. So, so naughty.”

He was taunting me, teasing me, and his words spurred me on. My hips lifted, another rough moan leaving my mouth at the new angle.

Tom must have liked it too, because soon enough he was thrusting so hard it nearly hurt, so hard I swore I could feel him in my stomach.“You’re. So. Fucking. Perfect.” His voice was gruff, the words barely audible. Our moans and breaths mingled, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. It may have been pornographic, may have been downright filthy, but I was too far gone to care.

I was fucking drowning in Tom.

So close to coming harder than I had in my entire life.

When he reached between us to rub his thumb over my clit it felt like too much, my back arching as I shook my head. “Tom, Tommy… no. I-”

“Shhh.” Tom’s focus was between us as he looked down, sliding his now soaking wet digit over my clit again, reveling in the way I shook under him. “Been dreaming of this for years. For years, Y/N.” He was so transfixed on looking down at where we were joined, I truly didn’t know if he realized he was speaking. “Do you want to come on my cock, love?”

He looked up at me then, our eyes meeting. His pupils were so blown out there was barely any brown left. No longer able to form a coherent sentence all I could do was nod.

“Good.” He pressed his thumb against my clit, harder than before, and watched my face as a scream erupted from me.

“Tom!” I went to grab his hand and he quickly grabbed hold of it with his free one, slamming it down against the mattress near my head, resting his full weight on me.

“You’re going to come for me just like this. My cock inside you, my hands all over you.” He released the hand he was holding and grabbed a hold of my hair, yanking my head back in a move that shocked me. I hadn’t expected him to be so rough, but the move sent pleasurable shockwaves through my scalp and down my back. I felt him everywhere.

I was close, so fucking close, words and moans and broken pleas leaving my mouth. I wanted it so bad I could cry, my desperation palpable as Tom trailed rough, wet kisses down my neck, never once letting up on my clit as his hips pistoned forward in short, quick strokes. He was close too, I could feel it in the way his pace began to stutter, in the way his breath was hitting my neck.

I ran my fingers through his thick hair and his pace quickened. “Come, Y/N, please.” Tom’s voice was raspy and I knew he was serious. He was waiting for me, holding back for me, wanting to please me… and somehow that was everything I needed to finally let go.

My orgasm hit me like a freight train, knocking the wind out of me. I came with a silent scream, my mouth falling open with no sound coming out, my breath stuck in my throat as Tom’s grip on my hair tightened. Vaguely, I could hear his name coming out of my mouth on repeat, my entire body tensing up underneath him. It was like nothing I’d ever felt, like every nerve in my body was on fire.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck.” Tom’s back muscles tensed under my hands, his entire body going still as he held himself deep inside me. The feeling of his pulsating cock sent delicious aftershocks through me and I clenched around him, loving the small groan that erupted from him as he slowly relaxed, resting his full weight on me with a long, heavy sigh.

We lay like that for a few minutes, the thunder and wind having calmed at some point during our tryst. Tom was resting his sweaty forehead on my chest and I ran my fingers through his hair as I stared up at the ceiling. Everything would be different now, everything would change. But I was too lost in my post orgasm glow to care much about anything.

“Was that too rough?” Tom’s voice was soft, the question catching me off guard.

“What?”

He lifted his head to look at me, shifting his body weight as he examined my face. “Was I too rough? I get carried away sometimes, don’t always know my own strength.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. If he only knew half the things I wanted to do to him, or what I wanted him to do to me. Shit. He’d probably have me arrested. “No, Tom, no. Believe me, it was perfect.”

He arched in eyebrow in a cocky way that only Tom fucking Holland could do. “Perfect?” His accent was thick. “Just wait for round two.”

I was about to respond when he leaned in for a kiss, capturing my lips and holding me right there in that moment with him. It was crazy, it was stupid, it was reckless. And I didn’t give a flying fuck.

A noise from downstairs startled us and I jumped. “It was probably just the wind.” Tom reassured me.

I nodded my head, but when I heard the telltale sign of keys hitting the countertop my heart leapt into my throat. “Tom? Y/N? You guys here?”

Tom’s eyes met mine and in unison, we said, “Jordan.”

Oh, fuck.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland au #au #spiderman #avengers #peter parker #i feel like im gonna throw up #why am i so nervous about this

512 notes · View notes